One More Christmas
by anhanninen
Summary: Conceding defeat was never in Bella's plans, but things change during the fight for your life. She's counting down the days but has one last wish, which Dr. Pretty Eyes plans to fulfill. With a little of his Christmas magic, Bella may just find a reason to fight again.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapters 1-9 are reposts from 2014**

 **Mistletoe Contest**

 **Pen Name:** Anhanninen

 **Title:** One More Christmas

 **Summary:** Conceding defeat was never in Bella's plans, but things change during the fight for your life. She's counting down the days but has one last wish, which Dr. Pretty Eyes plans to fulfill. With a little of his Christmas magic, Bella may just find a reason to fight again.

 **Pairing:** Edward and Bella

 **Beta:** BookwormBaby2580 and MelissaMargaret

 **Rating:** M

* * *

Dying isn't easy.

I mean, it _is._ It's not like you have to really do anything physically, but the mental part? Hard. The not easy part. That's the part that tears you into pieces and chips away at your soul and actually makes the physical part easy because you lose the will to live and whatnot. It basically fucking sucks.

Like, a lot.

It's not easy and it feels like it takes forever, but not forever. The days pass quickly as if the little minute hand is on speed. Your clock is running down and it's counting down to zero fast. There's not enough time to do everything you've ever dreamed of, so . . . once you've done all you can, it suddenly feels like the clock has slowed down. The minute hand is now toking on a blunt and relaxing, letting you live out those last days in misery and pain.

It's been over a week since I was admitted this time.

Two weeks ago, a week went by in a blur, but not anymore. My days strapped to a bed on oxygen and monitors now seem longer. I'm waiting for that inevitable moment to take my last breath. I'm waiting for every test result to tell my doctor it's time to stop fighting a losing battle. I'd tell him that, but he has these beautiful green eyes that are so full of hope. It seems a shame to crush that hope.

If you asked him, he'd tell you I wasn't dying. He'd tell you I'm still fighting and with the right treatment, I could have more time. He'd tell you that because it's what he believes — or maybe because it's what he wants _me_ to believe. He's a stubborn fella. He has that upbeat attitude still because he's young and still wants to save the world. The other doctors, though? The old ones who have seen people like me more times than they care to count? They'd tell you I was dying. They'd say that and then walk away like nothing happened.

They've done it before. A lot. They're a little jaded and kind of like sore losers who've lost this battle too many times, so they don't even try anymore. Of course they _try_ — pretty sure they're legally obligated to — but they'd see the signs Dr. Pretty Eyes looks past.

They'd see I'm done fighting, but too scared to tell them to stop. I'd get a new doctor like that, but . . . I enjoy looking at and talking to Pretty Eyes too much. I might be dying, but I'm not dead _yet._

And I still have a vagina, you know.

"Good morning, Bella."

I look up from the book I've been reading since four a.m. when I gave up sleeping and he's in my room. He's walking to my window and opening the curtains.

I muster up a little smile as I close the book. "Morning, Dr. Cullen."

He looks back at me, showing off his pretty white teeth with a smile before sitting down next to my bed. He's got his tablet in his hands, which means new test results and he reads them to me. He tells me the actual numbers because he knows I want them. His smile is unwavering, even though the numbers suck. It's not like they've gotten worse, but . . . sucking is sucking, no matter how long they've sucked for.

"I want a Christmas tree," I say, looking at the blank space on the window seal. "One of those table ones, so what? Two feet? Three? And white and red balls with green lights. Oh, and that incredibly, gets everywhere and spreads like herpes, sparkly garland. I mean, I want to be covered in sparkles before I've even wrapped it around the little tree twice."

He nods with a chuckle. "Little Christmas tree, white and red balls — those sparkly too, I'm assuming — and STI-like garland."

"And green lights."

"And green lights," he agrees. "I think that's manageable. Might be against protocol, but screw that. I'll get you a tree."

An actual smile curls on my dry, cracked lips. "What kind of topper?"

"What do you like? Angel or star?"

"We always had an angel when I was younger. It was my grandmother's, I think. God, it was old as hell, but . . . Dad and I always put it up. We'd break balls and replace them, lights would be tangled so we'd get new ones, and our ornaments were candy canes so different each year, but the angel remained the same. Every Christmas we'd pull it from a box and Dad would just look at it with a smile — some childhood memory like I'm experiencing now, I'm sure. I wish I had that angel."

"Do you know where it is?"

I shook my head. "I sold it at a garage sale before I sold our house. It hurt to even look at, so I didn't want it, but now I do. It was just homemade, like with a doily and wire wings. I probably have a picture of it on my iPad."

He reaches to my end table and his pristinely white lab coat shifts as he stretches. I can't see anything under the blue shirt, but I can imagine. It's all I kind of have left. I imagine my doctor naked. My nice, tree buying, book getting, grease sneaking in doctor. I mean, of course I do because who wouldn't? He's a very fine specimen of a man.

Tall and lean with big, beautiful hands, but not monstrously big — big as in, on your hips, pulling you against him with just enough strength. His hair is almost red, but more bronze-ish and he has just the right amount of scruff. He must have perfected that level of scruff, so it should be named after him. The Edward Cullen scruff. It tickled, but wasn't short enough to scratch.

He's just handsome.

Extremely handsome.

Like, I may be dying but God blessed me with him as a little, "sorry about the cancer killing you, but look at this while it does," gift. He's a nice parting gift before leaving this world.

"Find that angel," he says, passing me my iPad.

I go into my pictures and search. I'd scanned them all before packing up my things to be donated and thrown away. I'm not sure why I thought of doing it, but something told me I needed to, and I'm glad I did. This taking forever but not forever dying has left me with some time on my hands, so reliving my childhood is nice. I'm sure I'll see my dad soon, but until that inevitable day, I could see him now in pictures.

"Ah, here you go," I say, zooming in on the screen for the angel atop our tree before passing it to him.

He looks it over, studying every detail before doing something. He's typing and I'm curious, but being tethered to a bed by tubing in my nose makes it hard to snoop. I need a longer leash, but I'll ask him for that tomorrow — if tomorrow comes.

I think it will.

I'm not entirely sure how close I am to death, but I think I've got another couple days in me. I kind of hope I do because I want one last Christmas. I'm totally okay with December twenty-sixth being my date of death. It seems like a good day to go, so I need to live another eight days.

"Do you think I have eight more days left?" I ask, tilting my head in curiosity. "Seriously. Don't say you can have weeks or blah blah blah. Be realistic."

The smile fades as he sighs. "I think so. I hope so. From your test results I'd _say_ so, but . . . things can change fast — realistically. Now, _hopefully_ this round of treatment does what we want it to and gives you more time. The infection makes things difficult, but I've seen you fight off worse. If anyone can make it eight more days, it's you. You want another Christmas."

I look past him to the cloudy Chicago sky and nod. "I want more snow, too. I want a white Christmas and on Christmas Eve, I'd like to go out and let the snowflakes fall on my cheeks. Then I can die. Christmas and snow I need to hold on for."

"You can barely get out of bed to use the restroom, Bella," he says sadly. "Going outside . . . it might not happen right now."

"Well, I'll cross my afternoon jog off my schedule today, but I'm leaving the snowflakes on for Christmas Eve."

The conviction in my voice surprises even me. I've done the jumping out of a plane, the seeing London, the watching a sunrise on a beach, and watching a sunset on another beach, and now I want this, too. I'm greedy, I guess. If you can call a twenty-three year old greedy for wanting to live another week.

"Okay," he says as the smile returns. He lays my iPad back down and then pats my knee as he repeats, "Okay."

"Oh- _kay,_ " I tease.

"I see that," he says. "You've got a little glimmer of living on your face. Be careful or I might just think the antidepressants and counseling are helping."

"They're not."

He wags his finger with a smirk. "They might be."

"Nope. I've given up the will to live. This," I wave my hand over my face, "is just me wanting another Christmas. I'll probably die just after midnight after it."

"I'm working that night, so don't even try it."

"Don't you have other patients to annoy with hopefulness? Trying to die in peace, Dr. Cullen."

"For the thousandth time, it's Edward. The dying get the privilege of calling me by my first name, and yes, I do have other patients to take care of, but first you get to endure my torturous exam."

He pulls his stethoscope from his pocket and I groan. It's a fake groan. I actually like it when he touches me because he has warm hands and he rubs the end of the stethoscope between them. It's not all about the hands, though. I like when he's close. I'd like him to be close under different circumstances, but I take what I can get.

The pretty doctor smells good, okay?

. . . . .

My days are pretty boring. I sleep, read, watch tv, have poison pumped into my body, and eat what I can. Sometimes I have tests, but not today. The highlight of my day today is walking to the bathroom and sitting in the shower while a nurse helps me bathe. We don't make eye contact or talk. I'm sure she's a lovely person, but this is degrading enough without small talk.

Dying takes away all of your strength and the meds to slow the dying don't help much. The morphine is fun, though. Dying gives me the right to have it whenever I want. I have a little button of magic juice and I push it a lot. Dying hurts and all so I need it, but I might take advantage of it too — just a little. It doesn't help with the strength thing and kind of makes it worse, but having a chick bathe me isn't so bad if it comes with magic juice.

After the degrading bath, I brush my hair out as I'm tethered back to the bed. Even though there's not much to brush and it takes forever because I break frequently, I like doing it. Brushing my hair and rubbing lotion on my skin are two of the only pleasures I have left — aside from a hot doctor, of course. I take my time and let the ritual last as long as possible. My mother did this for me before she died when I was four. The memories of her are vague, but the hair brushing is more vivid. I can't make out her face anymore in my mind and haven't been able to for years, but I can still smell her. She smelled like flowers, so that's the only kind of lotion I use. I haven't been able to match her exact scent, but I'm close with two types so I alternate them.

I'll see her soon, too.

Maybe I'll be four again and have both of my parents for eternity. Obviously no one knows what the afterlife holds, but that's what I hope for. That's my heaven. It's being little again with no fears besides monsters under my bed. Nothing will hurt and it'll be perfect. It'll be like the magic juice high, but _better —_ oh so much better.

No car accidents.

No heart attacks.

And no cancer.

Just bliss.

"Oh good, the ritual is over," Edward says, waltzing into my room as if he owns the place.

His father kind of does, but not him.

Had I not mentioned he's uber rich? And not doctor-rich, but actual _rich_ — millions upon millions and a trust fund he's barely touched. His family comes from old money, but they're not wasp-ish. They're actually lovely people, just like him.

So, I shouldn't be surprised to see Mrs. Cullen follow behind him into my room, but I am. She's the loveliest of the uber rich Cullens. Edward gets the kind of red hair and pretty green eyes from her, I think. Unless his silver fox of a father has the genes in there, too. I guess that's possible, but Dr. Daddy Hospital-Owner Cullen is blond with silver and has blue eyes. Edward for sure gets the height and nice big hands from him, though.

For. _Sure_.

"Hello, Bella," Mrs. Cullen says with a smile that matches her son's. They both have boxes and set them down on the foot of my bed and bed table. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

She embraces me as if we're old friends and even kisses my cheek as I tell her, "Okay. Currently refreshed."

"Good." She pulls back and sighs, looking over the boxes. "So, Edward said you wanted a tree and gave very specific instructions. You see, shopping isn't this boy's field of expertise, but it's one of my many. Carlisle has okayed it _and_ some, so we'll be decorating this evening."

"I figured we better rush it since you now only have _seven_ days left," Edward says.

It's now I realize he's not in his usual lab coat or scrubs. He's in jeans and his tie is missing since his crisp white shirt is unbuttoned. He was here this morning, but his day ended over an hour ago. He's here on his time. With his mother. To decorate my tree.

Supposedly a crush is only a crush for so long before it becomes love. I'm probably at that point with him, so it's a good thing I'm going to die soon. The fact that he's come to help fulfill my last wish on his own time only makes that crush-possibly-love stronger. I feel like I'm entitled to fall in love, though, so I don't feel bad. I've never been _in_ love before, so it's nice I get to experience it before I go — even if it's not reciprocated.

"You guys really did this?" I ask with my own little smile. "You didn't _have_ to."

Edward shrugs and Mrs. Cullen laughs softly. "I wanted to," he says. "Is something funny, Mom?"

Mrs. Cullen shakes her head. "No, not at all. I'm glad you wanted to do this — for whatever reason."

"Thank you both so much," I say. "This, um . . . means a lot to me. Can you extend my leash so I can help?"

Edward nods and fiddles with the tubing as I try to blink the tears away. I don't want him to see. I don't want anyone to. I don't even want one to fall on my cheek even if I were alone. I did my crying. I did a lot of it in the beginning after my diagnoses. I even cried when I lost all of my hair the first time, which is starting to happen again now that it's _finally_ past my ears. Treatments suck, especially incredibly aggressive ones as a last ditch effort. Hair shouldn't matter so much, but it does.

"Oh, these balls are _perfect,_ Mrs. Cullen," I say, opening up the packaging and admiring the glittering red and white balls. I pick one up and hold it up to the light to watch it sparkle.

She smiles. "I'm glad you like them. And no more Mrs. Cullen unless you're talking about my evil mother-in-law. Esme, dear."

"I'm telling Dad you called Nana evil," Edward laughs as he sets up the three foot tall tree in my window.

"He's called her worse," she says, rolling her eyes as she passes me a package of hooks.

They're not the usual, flimsy ones, either. These are silver and curl on both ends with the bottom one looking like a swirl. I put the ribbon attached to my first ball on it and can't help but wonder why they're going to all this trouble. I'm sure it's probably pity, but I let my mind pretend it's more — it's compassion and love, as if I were family.

While Esme and I put hooks on the balls, Edward fluffs out the little tree and starts the lights. He doesn't need but one strand, but he takes his time and redoes it a few times until it's perfect to him — and me. As we work we talk. I hear about their family and Christmas plans. Alice, the youngest Cullen child and only girl, is coming home from France for the holiday.

She's studying abroad this semester and they tell me how much she loves Paris. I hear about the magnificent museums and the dreams she has. It brings a smile to my face because she's doing what she truly loves. A little jealously flares too, wishing I'd gotten the chance to follow my dreams, but I'm mostly just happy to hear stories.

The next topic is Emmett, the oldest of the three. He's a lawyer for the hospital, but the discussion is focused on his two month old son. This is baby boy Seth's first Christmas and I get to see the photos on Santa's lap — technically in his arms — of him. He's cute and less alien potato looking from the last pictures Edward had shown me. He's chunky and all smiles, and I'm told it was like he was born smiling.

I enjoy hearing the stories. For a little while, I kind of forget we're decorating my room for my last Christmas. Esme didn't stop at just getting a tree. There's a wreath over my bathroom door and snowflake stickers on my windows and door, looking out to the ICU hallway. She's even changed my hospital issue comforter to a red one and gave me a pair of flannel Christmas pajamas. The room feels all joyful and happy and whatnot, and I want to live in this moment forever.

Sadly, it ends all too soon when the side-effects of my treatment rear their ugly heads. One minute we're happy and laughing and the next I'm throwing up and dizzy and kind of wish I had died in that happy, joyful moment. Esme is nurturing while Edward is clinical. I get the good antiemetic in my IV from him and Esme's caress over my brow. I'm shivering and she tucks the new comforter and my blankets around me.

All my days end like this as of late. The shitty side-effects wipe the little energy I have and I'm soon falling asleep. They're still here, though. Her touch remains on my brow and I feel my hand covered by his as I drift off, letting the morphine and antiemetic do their jobs.

. . . . .

The closer I get to Christmas, the less sure I am that I'll make it. My lung is a little too full of fluid the day after my tree goes up, and Edward ever so kindly shoves a tube in my back to drain it. My hair is shedding as if I were a dog and I'm constantly cold. Esme brings a heated blanket when I have four days left and sits with me. She asks about my parents and I relive some happy memories while fighting to breathe.

Lung cancer is evil.

It's always evil, but feels a little more so to me. I never smoked. I was never around smoke. Nothing caused it aside from stupid cells being stupid and my body being shitty. We thought we almost had it beat earlier this year, but the thing about cancer is that it likes to spread. The story of how I went from fighting with everything I had to being ready to throw in the towel is a long and boring one. I'm not ready — not really. I want to fight and be optimistic like Edward, but I can only handle so much.

His last ditch treatment probably won't work. Maybe if I hadn't gotten an infection, which spurred this hospital stay, it could have, but I don't see it happening. Maybe I'll get longer than until Christmas, but right now I feel drained. Right now I'm ready to sign a do not resuscitate and stop this treatment.

I'm even working up the courage to tell my nurse, but then he comes in. He sees my tears today and I don't even have the strength to be ashamed that I broke that promise to myself.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve," he tells me, taking my hand and sitting on my bed. "Stay with me, okay? Cry it out, but don't give up just yet. The infection is clearing. We still have a chance."

His voice is soft as his thumb caress the back of my hand. "It hurts," I cry.

He reaches behind my back as I lay on my side facing him. I see the button in his hand and I nod, asking him to press it for me. The pain doesn't fade much, like it usually does. Each breath hurts and before inhaling each time, I tell myself not to.

 _Just give up,_ I think.

"You can do this," he says.

 _It's your decision. Give up._

"I've got a surprise for you tomorrow, so you don't get to let go yet."

 _I can't anymore. I want it over with._

"Please, my strong, brave girl."

I'm ready to throw in the towel and let go, but I can't. I can't leave this world yet. I'm not ready.

"I need your faith," I sniffle, trying to hold his fingers.

"I've got enough for both of us." He smiles, leaning in close to me. "You can do this. I believe in miracles and _you._ "

I'm able to meet his gaze for just a moment before the dizziness wins out. His eyes hold sadness, but he's still smiling. I'm not sure what I've done to make him believe in me. I tell him I'm going to die over and over, my results tell him I'm going to die, but something is making him believe, and knowing he does gives me strength.

I keep breathing, and though each breath is a fight, I find myself doing it for him as he encourages me. He stays with me until I fall asleep and when I wake up in a dark room, I see he's still here.

It makes me believe in myself, too.

. . . . .

"This seems like an incredibly bad idea and something you'd strongly discourage," I say as Edward helps me into a wheelchair.

"Under different circumstances with different people, I would most certainly discourage this," he chuckles. "But, I figure if two doctors and a nurse can't keep you alive for a night, we need to reevaluate our career choices."

He's taking me to his parents' house for Christmas. He's discharging me and lugging medications, oxygen, and supplies to their house so I can spend Christmas with them. I don't know why and I should probably ask, but I'm not going to. The idea makes me happy and I suddenly feel a hundred times better than I did last night. I feel . . . _alive_ again. This might just be my last good day, but I don't think about it. My mind is solely on how good I feel and making it last.

"I feel the need to apologize in advance if I die in your parents' home," I say, tucking my blanket around my legs as he puts a duffle bag in my lap. "They both realize that _could_ happen, right? And if they try to sell the house, I think they have to disclose if someone died there. I could be bringing down their property value."

"You won't die in their house," he says, fixing the beanie on my head and making sure I'm a bundled up. "Now, let's go. You can come back here and die the day after tomorrow."

"I'll try to make it," I giggle.

Leaving the hospital seems ludicrous, but the moment I'm outside and breathe in the fresh, cool air I feel even more energized. I'm still getting oxygen from the lovely tubing under my nose, but I can feel the real air, too. I can smell it. It smells like winter and looks like Christmas as he pushes me toward an awaiting SUV. A small girl with black hair grins and waves, and I realize I've seen her before in pictures.

Alice.

She looks like I feel on the inside — happy, healthy, and bouncing on her heels. As soon as we get close, she meets us and introduces herself to me.

"It's good to finally meet you, Bella," she says. "I feel like I know you from how much Edward talks about you! Oh, and Mom! The two of them have painted quite the picture you now have to live up to."

She winks and Edward clears his throat. "Door, Alice," he says.

"Oh, right!"

As soon as she has it open and takes my duffle, Edward's arms are under my knees and around my back, lifting me from the wheelchair to place me in the SUV. I think it's his. It looks like him. It's black but shiny and a Volvo — a total Dr. Cullen car. I'm put upfront and the seat heater is already on, warming up my ass. I've never used a seat heater before and I like it. It should have been on the bucket list.

Edward gets in the driver's seat, confirming my suspicions of who owns the vehicle as Alice slides in the back. Her head is between our seats, chatting up a storm as we pull away from the hospital. I thought I'd never leave this place once I entered this time, but I've been proven wrong thanks to Edward.

It's nice to be wrong sometimes.

I take in the sights of the city as we drive. I've lived here for a few years, but seeing it today feels new for some reason — like my eyes are wide open for the first time. It's beautiful. Christmas decorations are everywhere and there's a little snow on the ground from a few days ago, too. If this is the last time I see Chicago, it's left me with a beautiful image.

"How do you feel?" Edward asks, glancing over at me as we stop at a light.

I smile and my hand is suddenly over his without thinking. I'm touching him this time and it's not at all clinical and he should probably pull away, but he doesn't. "I'm good," I say. "Really good. Thank you for doing this. I still don't understand _why_ , though"

The light changes and he looks away before speaking. "You deserve to have an actual Christmas. That's why. Everyone deserves to have their last wish fulfilled, and I knew it'd make you happy."

"But spending it with you and your family? Isn't that a little . . . odd?"

I know what I'm asking and I'm sure he does too from the silence in the car. Sometimes I wonder if my crush _is_ reciprocated. He's close to me — closer than I've ever seen him with another patient. It could all be pity and guilt that he can't save me, but I don't know. The wonder is there, but I can't actually straight out ask him. At least I won't have to wonder forever, I suppose.

"Maybe," he finally says. "But I don't trust anyone else to fulfill your wish like I can, so there. Everyone loved the idea and I've already broken you out of prison, so no going back now."

His head turns and I see the wink. We're not going to actually discuss this, but that's cool with me. Maybe I'll just spend the next twenty-four hours imagining we did and he feels the same. That seems like a pretty good idea, if you ask me.

. . . . .

The Cullens live outside of the suburbs. I expect Edward to pull into any one of the multiple extravagant neighborhoods we pass, but he doesn't. He keeps going and then turns down a road about ten minutes since the last development. There's nothing at first aside from trees, but once those break, I see it.

I see a large, lit up house in a clearing. It's dark outside, but the house is all windows and like a sparkly beacon in the night. There are wreaths and Christmas lights galore, and I can't help but wonder if Esme has won some kind of decorating award. She probably has from the look of her home.

"Did you grow up here?" I ask with my eyes wide open.

Edward chuckles. "No, we lived in one of those suburbs closer to the city, but once Emmett and I moved out, Mom decided it was time to have her dream home. So, they built this."

"I grew up in it," Alice says from behind me. "I'm pretty sure my weed stash is still hidden if you'd like to partake later."

The speed in which Edward's head whips around borders superhuman, but Alice just shrugs and giggles. He's about to say something and kind of looks confused, but then he's laughing too. I'm not entirely sure if Alice is kidding or not, but I go for it. I'm counting down to death, so what do I have to lose?

"Mary Jane helped my pain and nausea pretty damn well," I say. "I'm game."

"Sweet!" Alice cheers. "You know you want to join, Eddie."

"I'm a doctor and I get drug tested, so I'm good," he says. "You two can have fun later once Mom and Dad go to bed and Rosalie puts Seth down. Don't tell Emmett or he'll probably smoke it all like he used to do to me."

The more I learn about this family, the more I like them — especially Alice. She's just a little younger than me whereas Edward has about ten years on me. She seems fun and carefree and exactly the kind of person I'd once gravitated too. As odd as it sounds, I'm looking forward to my last Christmas since it'll be spent with them.

Once Edward parks in the garage, I'm greeted by Esme and Dr. Silver Fox. They help me out of the SUV and onto my feet until Edward can come support me. The walking thing has only gotten harder, so I expect to see the wheelchair, but it's just him with his strong, lovely arms around me. I don't miss the wheelchair.

"Thank you letting me join your family this Christmas," I say as we slowly make our way into the house.

It's even more beautiful from the inside, and I'm in awe. I could say the beauty took my breath away, but that was mostly the shitty, cancerous lungs. Good thing Alice is pulling my oxygen on a cart beside us.

"We're happy to have you," Dr. Silver Fox says as I'm settled on the couch. "If you need or want anything at all, just let us know. Is it too cold?"

Again, I don't know why I'm surprised by how lovely these people are, but I am. It's probably not cold in here to a normal, not actively dying person, but I'm freezing. I'm sure he'd turn up the heat — I mean, he looks about ready to dart to a thermostat — but I shake my head.

"Another blanket wouldn't hurt, but I'm okay. You have a beautiful home, and I really, _really_ am thankful you've allowed me in."

He smiles like every other Cullen does — all genuine and warm. He even gets the blanket for me and spreads it over my legs himself before adding a little pat on my hand, too. He's nice. He hasn't told me to call him Carlisle, but I'm going to. He doesn't look very Dr. Hospital-Owner right now, so Carlisle fits best anyway.

The five of us sit in the living room, just chatting for a while. Their tree is ginormous and gorgeous, but I can't help but notice that just like my little one, it's missing a topper. It might be tall, but their ceilings are taller and there's plenty of room, so it's odd but I don't focus on it. I focus on the conversations flowing around me — family catching up, learning about them, and telling them about me. It feels right in a way I can't describe, and for a second, I wonder if this all-is-perfect feeling is what happens right before dying. A few minutes pass and I'm not dead, so I guess it's not.

All-perfect is a nice feeling and I relish it.

"Tea, hot chocolate, or soda?" Edward asks.

My brow quirks as I smile. "I can have soda? Like, with real caffeine?"

"Yes," he laughs. "You can have anything tonight."

I have to stop myself from asking if his body is included in that deal, but at least I get an actual Coke out of it. It tastes so good, too. You see, they tell sick people not to eat or drink badly when they're sick. I followed all those guidelines and rules to try to beat this, but since it's not working, what's the point of sticking with it? Tonight I want Coke and grease and everything unhealthy, and considering I already have a bag of those yummy chocolate truffles in my lap, Edward seems down with this plan.

"Oh, that's Emmett and Rose!" Esme says as we hear a car pull up. "I'm going to help them with Seth and then I'll finish up dinner."

I want to offer to help, but I know I'd be more of a hinder in the kitchen. I feel like I _should_ help, though. They've invited me into their home and are treating me like one of their own. For a dying orphan, that's a pretty huge deal. I've had no one for so long that this little pretend-family time means more to me than words could ever say. It'll be over come tomorrow evening, but at least I won't have to be sad about that for long.

So, I don't even think about it ending.

"Do you want to see your room?" Edward asks. "First, though, I need to warn you that my mother is insane."

I quirk my brow. "She seems quite lovely."

"Yes, lovely as can be, but crazy and obsessive." He chuckles as Carlisle and Alice do the same.

"She just . . . commits," Carlisle says with a smirk. "There's no such thing as easy or bare minimum to her, so I think what Edward means is to expect extravagant."

"Like my hospital room?"

Edward nods. "Yeah, but . . . _more._ Let's go."

He helps me off the sofa and then sweeps me off my feet. Like, a legit sweeping motion and I can't help but giggle as I wrap an arm around his neck. He's much better than my wheelchair, to be honest. If another privilege of dying is being carried around by my hot doctor, death doesn't look so terrible.

Kidding, of course. Dying still sucks, even in his arms.

He takes me up the beautiful, lights and garland around the banister staircase. The house looks like it's straight out of a Christmas movie, and I love it. If Esme is called crazy for going all out like this, so be it. She's an awesome crazy person.

"My room is right across the hall and Alice is beside you," Edward says, heading through a doorway.

I'm gawking as we step inside the room. The bed looks like heaven with beautiful fluffy comforters and pillows galore. It looks like a cloud and I have no doubt it feels like one, too. The rest of the room is red and cream colored, matching the bedding. It's a gorgeous guest room with elegant decor. Edward places me on the bed next to a fluffy robe and gift basket. I guess it's for me because, I mean, who else would it be for? But I don't touch it yet.

It's too pretty to touch.

I can see lotions and fuzzy socks and chocolate — my favorite kind. Edward must have spilled the beans. I think it has a blanket and maybe pajamas too, but I can't tell.

"Is this the extravagant you mentioned?" I ask, playing with the sparkly red bow that holds the plastic around the basket.

"Mostly," he says. "She has more stuff around the room, but I think this is most of it. Mom likes to shower people with gifts. It's one of her most favorite things in the world, actually. I'm not sure if it's the shopping she likes best or the actual giving, but they certainly go hand-in-hand."

"She didn't have to get me anything," I say, shaking my head. "Just being out of the hospital is enough. Actually, it's more than enough. Being _here_ means more than anything to me."

He nods as he sits on the edge of the bed with me. He picks the basket up and puts it between us, pulling the sparkly red bow for me. "Well, then just think of this as a bonus."

"I can never repay you or give you all gifts. I mean, I _could_ — I didn't spend every dime I have on my bucket list — but I don't have anything to give you."

"I had you locked up in a hospital room, so excuse me for not being surprised you didn't bring gifts." He smirks. "That's not what's important. This basket is just Mom's way of showing she cares. She adores you, so just open it and tell her thank you when we go back downstairs. That'll mean more to her than a gift in return."

I smile, trying to hold back my emotions. I kind of feeling like crying over a gift basket. It's more than the basket, but that's what's bringing tears to my eyes right now as I try to blink them away.

"Do you understand what this means to me?" I ask, looking up to meet the pretty but now sad eyes. "I've had no one since my dad died and before that, it was just the two of us for so long. Being alone sucks, but I always told myself I'd get through it. You know, told myself someday I'd have a family again — people who cared and loved me. The cancer . . . it changed everything. My dreams went from that to just surviving, but even that . . . it won't happen."

"It could," he says as I shake my head.

"It probably won't, but what I mean is . . . you've given me that dream back — if only for a night."

"I care for you, Bella. I always have since the first time I met you. I believe your first words to me were something along the lines of, 'how do I not die?' From that moment, I knew you were more than just a patient. You were alone and barely able to drink when you were hit with your diagnosis — barely an adult, yet facing a life-threatening diagnosis without fear. Just seeing you, wanting to fight no matter what told me how brave you were. You wanted to live and really, that's what matters most in a fight for your life — _wanting_ it."

I sniffle and know I have snot on my nasal tubing. I remember wanting to live. I even remember telling him that. I was so ready to fight this, but once I heard I'd lost and it was spreading, I lost my faith. I lost my will.

"I don't want to die," I confess as I cry. "This is my last Christmas and I don't want it to be my last. This is amazing and wonderful, and I don't want it to end. But I'm tired, Edward. I'm tired of fighting what I can't beat. I'm tired of being alone and having no reason to fight."

"You have a reason," he says, taking my hands in his. "I don't want you to die. I can't imagine never hearing your sarcasm again or never walking in on you so entranced while reading that you don't even notice me, so I just watch you. I'm way too close to you and I have been for a long time. At some point you went from being my patient to being my friend and now . . . Do you want to know why my family was so eager to have you here? Why my mother is going so overboard for you?"

I nod. "Yeah, I've been trying to figure that out, actually. You act like this is nothing to you, yet it's everything to me."

"It's _because_ I care for you." He smiles, squeezing my hands. "I care for you more than words can express. Before I go into your room or when I would see you at the office, I have to remind myself I'm your doctor, but I haven't felt that way in a long time."

"You're kind of my best friend," I say.

His brow seems to twitch, but then he nods. "You're definitely mine. I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way and not just as your doctor. You're not alone anymore."

I'm really a complete mess — tears and snot and blood from my cracked lips because of smiling. I'm a complete and utter disaster and not the hot mess kind. But he's still looking at me with those pretty, compassionate eyes. He's wiping my tears and then his arms are around me. I just let his embrace engulf me and rest my head against his chest.

He holds me and I don't feel alone. I don't feel like I'm doing this all by myself and that no one will care when I die. He'll care. He'll miss me. That's one of the most terrifying things about dying. Will anyone even care? Will I be missed? I always thought the answer was no, but not anymore. Someone _will_ remember that I existed. I won't leave this world as if I were never here, and that brings me a little peace.

And gives me a little fight.

"Thank you," I whisper, lifting my head to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for caring."

"Sweet girl, I've always cared," he says, brushing the little bit of hair that has fallen from my hat out of my eyes. "Let's go downstairs, okay?"

"Don't I have to put on the pink fuzzy socks inside of this basket?" I point and he chuckles, nodding as he pulls the plastic away.

I instantly grab the fluffy, soft, cute socks and he takes them from me. He's on his knees in front of the bed, pulling off my cute lamb slippers and hospital socks before putting the fuzzy ones on. They're as warm as they look and softer than I imagined. They're absolutely perfect and I wiggle my toes as I grin.

"Very fuzzy," he says, sliding my slippers over them. "How about we take this chocolate and these candy canes and go downstairs?"

"But I have chocolate down there."

He shakes his head. "Emmett's in this house, so they're surely gone by now."

"He's that bad?"

"Like a damn vacuum," he laughs. "Everything in sight. It just goes in his mouth and is never seen again. Trust me. Leave no food unattended."

. . . . .

There's a baby in my arms. He's all cute and smiley and has a Santa Claus hat on. He likes me. He's been in my arms since we came downstairs and shows no signs of wanting to be with anyone else. Rosalie says it's okay and takes pictures of us. Apparently little Seth is a people person, so she's used to others holding him.

Edward's next to me, doing most of the baby supporting, but he doesn't seem to mind. We both laugh as Seth does cute things. I've never really been around kids, but this is nice. He's probably the cutest thing I've ever seen and I'm absolutely enamored with him.

"Do you want to feed him?" Rosalie asks, bringing us a bottle.

My hand is out and I'm nodding, even though I have no clue what feeding a baby entails. If it means I get a little more time with this fella, I'll figure it out.

"Would you show me how?" I ask.

She smiles and nods, kneeling before us. She's the nurse Edward mentioned. She's so nurturing that I'm not at all surprised that's her career. I'm sure she's an incredible nurse and I'm kind of sad I was never her patient. Don't get me wrong, my nurses have been great, but she seems like super-nurse and a really amazing mother, too.

She shows me what to do as if it's the easiest thing in the world. It kind of is because I'm just holding a bottle, but the angling and making sure the kid isn't choking make it not easy. I'm so afraid he's going to choke because it seems like he's drinking fast, but Emmett says that normal. He's apparently just like his dad, according to the family.

"Dinner's ready," Esme says, coming back into the living room. She sees the baby in my arms and awws. "Isn't he the happiest baby in the world?"

I nod. If you could bottle his happiness and sell it, we'd have world peace. He hasn't cried or even made an upset grunt since I've met him. All he does is smile and try to grab things. He really likes the little balls attached to my hat, let's just say.

"He's so sweet," I say. "His little dimples are going to break hearts."

"Looks just like his daddy," Rosalie says. "But cuter, of course. Do you want me to finish up?"

I nod and Edward helps pass the little guy off for me. Rosalie sways and feeds him as Edward helps me up. I manage to walk with his help to the dining room and the meal before us is a feast. Esme and Alice look incredibly proud as I take it all in. I thought meals like this only existed in magazines, but I was wrong.

I actually feel kind of hungry, which hasn't happened in quite some time.

Edward pulls a chair out for me and helps me sit before taking the one next to me. The whole family eventually is settled and Rosalie sits with Seth against her chest. There's talk about Alice's time in France and I hang on her every word — even the ones I don't understand. I spent time in London during my bucket list tour, but didn't make it to Paris and from how she describes it, I really wish I had.

"Where are you from originally, Bella?" Carlisle asks, looking toward me from the head of table.

"Washington State," I say. "I'm from a little town called Forks on the Olympic peninsula."

"Beautiful country out there. The boys and I go camping from time to time, and I'd love to make a trip west."

I nod. "It's gorgeous, really. I highly recommend seeing it at least once. The forest is beautiful and there are great spots to fish, too. My dad and I used to when I was little. He hunted, but I was more the catch and release type, so I stuck with just fishing."

"I think we should go next summer, you guys." He looks at both Emmett and Edward who nod.

I wonder what next summer will be like for a split second before I remember I won't see it. I'll never see another spring, summer, or autumn. I love watching the leaves change, and I didn't take enough time to appreciate it this last fall. I should have read outside more and gone for walks. I should have gone back home one last time, too.

"If you go, there's a reservation called La Push that you should visit," I say with tears in my eyes. "The beach is incredible."

Edward's hand is on my thigh, offering comfort. I'm sad I'll never see that place again, but I hope they go. Maybe I can ask Edward to find Billy Black and tell him I said goodbye. I'd lost contact with him and everyone else after Dad died and I moved, but he was like an uncle to me. I should have checked on him one last time, too.

"We'll go," Edward says and I know he wants to tell me I'll come too, but he refrains.

He doesn't want to make a promise he can't keep, and me seeing another summer isn't likely. So, I put on a smile and nod. "Good."

The conversation moves away from me and I'm thankful. I about started crying at the dinner table over my ham and no one should have to witness that. Edward has, but I won't do that to him again and certainly not to his wonderful family, either.

Dinner is incredible and I manage to eat some ham and green beans. They had bacon in them, which totally fulfilled my wish of grease. They were absolutely delicious and if it hadn't been for barely having an appetite, I could have eaten more. Emmett seemed to do it for me, though, at least. I lived vicariously through him.

Seth is out for the count after dinner, so while Rosalie puts him down, the rest of us head back to the living room to wind down. I'm tired but not near as tired as I have been. Being around people has lifted my spirits and I kind of feel good. Still oxygen deprived, but decent enough.

Once we're all settled and Rosalie is back, Edward disappears. She takes his spot beside me and asks questions. I'm distracted enough so that when Edward does come back, I miss the box in his hands until it's in my lap.

It's wrapped in fancy gold and red paper and looks too pretty to touch. I hesitate and Edward says, "Open it."

He wants me to tear up the pretty and it makes me sad to, but I do. There's a white box underneath and I pull the lid. Moving tissue paper aside, I finally see what's inside and I'm speechless.

"This is my angel," I say. "This is . . . Oh my god, it's my angel."

"Not exactly, but close," Edward says with a grin. "I sent the picture of yours to a friend and she made it for me. It's too big for your little tree, but I think it'll look good on this one."

I look across the room to see Esme nod with her own grin. "We saved a spot for it," she says.

I pick up the beautiful angel and smile. It's so identical to the one I remember that it takes me back. I hear my giggles and Dad's laugh. I hear his cursing at the ladder and sense my worry over him falling. It's like I'm a kid again just by looking at it. These are good memories and I revel in them. There are no tears in my eyes as I just admire it for a few minutes. Eventually I pass it off to Edward and Emmett has a ladder ready.

Edward climbs up it shakily and I'm a little worried we'll be going back to the hospital. At least it won't be for me, though. Amazingly he gets to the top without falling and my angel is put in place. It looks so perfect atop their tree.

"It's amazing," I say. "It looks so similar. I can't believe you had it made."

He sits back down beside me once Rosalie moves and sighs happily. "Did I surprise you?"

"Yeah," I scoff. "God, it's gorgeous, isn't it? It's not fancy, but it's so pretty up there."

"It's the perfect, finishing touch," Esme says. "Now, who wants pie?"

Hands go up and we all laugh. Edward tells me the Cullens like their pie, and I'm sure it's because Esme made it. Her dinner was delicious and though I'm stuffed, I want pie, too.

It's probably like, the best pie ever.

. . . . .

Pie and snacks and conversation turn the evening into night. We're all caught up in a conversation when Alice suddenly squeals. It's loud and ear piercing and then she's out of her seat, nose pressed to the massive window facing the backyard.

"It's snowing!" she says. "Holy shit, it's coming down fast!"

I want to see it more than anything in the world, so I'm trying to get up before Edward realizes. I fail kind of spectacularly, but he figures out what I want and helps me up and over to the window. Someone turns off all the big lights and we can see the big, fluffy flakes coming down quickly. The deck is already covered and I wonder how long this has been going on for. It's gorgeous and turning everything sparkly, white, and fresh.

"A white Christmas," I whisper with a smile.

Edward couldn't fulfill this wish, but someone did. We'll call it Mother Nature, but I'm thinking a little more . . . spiritual.

"Can we go out?" I ask, turning my head toward Edward as he holds me up.

"It's freezing out," he sighs. "You're already cold, so maybe we shouldn't."

I don't use the dying card to get what I want often. I mean, I try not to, but I'm dying and it's kind of a perk. I curl my lips down into a pout and bat my eyelashes. It's a total cliché move, but I don't care. I want to feel the snow on my skin one more time.

"Please?" I beg. "We don't have to stay out long."

"Take her out, Edward," Carlisle says with a smile. "She can easily fit into Alice's clothes, so bundle her up and let her have this."

I kind of want to high five Daddy C when he winks at me. It totally works and before I know it, I'm bundled up more than an Eskimo. I have two winter coats on — Alice's then Esme's — a pair of snow pants over my pajama ones, and the warmest boots you can imagine. I'm actually kind of hot for the first time in forever as we get ready to head out. I can't move on my own either, but who needs to when you have a hot guy willing to carry you around?

Not me.

"We're not staying out long," Edward says. "Play in the snow like a five year old for a few minutes and then let's come back in."

I nod even though I have no intentions of making this quick. I'm going to enjoy every second of it and make it last as long as possible. The moment we're outside and the cold air hits my face, I take the deepest breath I can muster up.

Christmas totally has a scent and this is it. The air is fresh and the snowflakes are beautiful. Edward takes me down the steps of the deck and puts me down for a moment to clear the bottom one off for us to sit. I bury my feet in the snow and laugh as I look up.

I close my eyes and let the fluffy snowflakes fall on my cheeks and nose. They're freezing obviously, but I pay no mind to the burning cold. I just enjoy it.

"You look like a kid, seeing their first snow," Edward says, grinning as I turn my head toward him. "Happiness looks beautiful on you, Bella."

I nod. "I'm so happy. Don't you love this?"

He shrugs. "Snow is kind nice on Christmas, but mostly annoying to me. As long as you're happy, I'm happy. It's pretty damn cold, though."

He shivers and I laugh, telling him to toughen up. I have no intentions of moving from this spot for quite some time, so he needs to adjust.

As I'm looking off to the woods, I feel his eyes on me. His hand is wrapped around mine and I feel all cozy and nice as the snow falls over us. This is bliss. Like, actual one of the happiest moments of my life _bliss._

"You're beautiful," he says and I whip my head toward him.

"You're just flattering me," I tease.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not. You're beautiful and I'm so grateful that I get to spend this time with you. We've been through hell together, you know? You more so, but I've been right by your side and I'll never leave it."

"This is a pretty nice moment, so I'm not thinking about the hellish ones. You've given me the greatest gift in the world — your time."

"You can have every moment of my time."

"It won't be much, though," I sigh.

His arm wraps around me, pulling me close into him. I'm kind of pissed at all the layers I'm wearing because I want to feel this. Knowing is good enough, I guess, but I like it when he touches me. I like it even more right now. I'm dying and there's no changing that, but knowing he'll be by my side helps ease that pain — if only a little.

"I'm so scared," I confess. "I have no idea what comes next and the thought terrifies me. I want more time to see and do more things. It's not fair. I'm only twenty-three and my time is limited to days or maybe weeks."

"It's not fair," he agrees, holding me closer. "It's not fucking fair."

"I _fucking_ hate cancer. Will you really be by my side?"

He nods without hesitation. "I'll take time off and be there as long as you'll have me. You're not going through this alone anymore. I won't let you because I love you."

His words barely register in my mind before his lips are against mine. We're both kind of crying as we move our lips together like it's the most natural thing in the world. It is. It's right and makes my toes tingle. He's kissing me and it's better than the dreams I've had of it.

His gloved hand is against my cheek and I'm holding onto him. I don't want him to pull away, but I know he will soon. I try to turn my mind off of what comes next and just enjoy it. I'm kissing Dr. Pretty Eyes. Technically, _he's_ kissing me. And he loves me.

Holy shit.

The lovely, perfect, toe-tingling kiss distracted me from his words. He loves me. Obviously, he's an idiot.

"You can't love me," I say, breaking away and creasing my brow.

He just smirks and chuckles. "Well, I do. I love you, Bella. I love your fight, your strength, your bravery, and even your sarcastic and dark humor. I love everything about you and I have for some time. I can't just stop."

"Dying, Edward! Loving a dying person is the stupidest thing ever."

"Nothing will change my feelings. I may not have a lot of time to show you that I love you, so I'm not wasting another second. You love me, too."

I roll my eyes, but he's right. I mean, of course he's right. Loving him is nothing new to me, but telling him? That's pretty frightening. He should probably distance himself from me because I don't want to hurt him, but from the look in his eyes, I know it's too late for that.

It's too late to lie or hide.

"Of course I love you," I say as he grins. "This is really, really awful timing, though."

"But it's not too late."

No, it's not. Even if I only have a day left, a day of loving Edward and knowing he loves me is enough. Falling in love wasn't on my bucket list, but it's happened. I don't know why and I'm not going to question it.

"It's not too late," I agree, smiling with tears in my eyes.

I'm about to make a kind of declaration of love like he did, but his phone interrupts us. He manages to fish it out of his pocket and takes one look at the screen before starting to stand.

"I will be _right_ back and then I'm taking your freezing ass inside," he says.

I giggle and nod. "Fine. I'll just enjoy my last few minutes of snow alone."

He walks away and I hear him answer as Dr. Cullen before he's out of earshot. He has an important job — I mean, I would know, after all — but I hope he doesn't have to leave. We're supposed to have the rest of my short life together, and I'm quite looking forward to it.

While he's gone, I play with the fallen snow around me. I manage to build a little, very awkward looking snowman. He's just three snowballs without a face or arms, but he's mine. I decide his name is Mr. Snow Face. My very last snowman, no matter how pitiful, deserves a name, after all.

I still can't get over how beautiful the Cullens' property is and the sparkling snow just completes the perfect Christmas scene. Edward fulfilled my last wish and some. In fact, he made it better than I ever could have imagined and I'll never be able to thank him enough.

He made a dying girl's wish come true, so he deserves like, sainthood or something. I'm not entirely sure how that works, but I'm going to write a letter to someone. He's an amazing and special man, and one of the best I've ever known. Cancer fucking sucks, but at least I've gotten to know him because of it.

I've gotten to fall in love.

"Bella," Edward says, sitting back down beside me.

I didn't hear him at all — too immersed in my own thoughts — and I'm surprised to see the look on his face. He looks . . . shocked.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

His lips slowly curl into a smile and I'm confused. "I asked a radiologist friend of mine to look at your scans from this morning. I didn't expect him to get back to me tonight, but that was him."

"And?"

I can't be hopeful, but his smile makes me want to be.

"It's working. Your tumors . . . they've shrunk."

"That's impossible, Edward," I sigh. "He's wrong because that's . . . it's _not_ possible. The cancer has spread too much."

He's grinning and I want him to stop. "You're far from remission, but it's completely possible for the treatment to work. It _has,_ Bella! This is the most progress we've seen in months! Look at me." He cups my face in his gloved hands, forcing our eyes to meet. "You could beat this."

I'm speechless. His words are echoing in my head and I'm trying wrap my mind around them. Nothing's worked. Every treatment has literally done nothing to help me, but this last ditch effort one has? I don't know how to believe it. I've resigned myself to believing I'm going to die. I've accepted it and given up, but now I might live longer?

"How much time do I have?" I ask.

He chuckles softly. "No more talk of time. If this treatment continues to work — and I think it might — you could beat it all together. This is the break we've been waiting for — the one I've been telling you could happen."

I stare into his pretty green eyes as it hits me. "I might not die!" I scream.

He's laughing harder now and nodding fervently. "Yes! Bella, this is incredible."

"Holy shit! Edward, I can't . . . I don't know what to say or think or do. How is this possible? What do we do now?"

"We continue the treatment," he says. "We'll have to find you a new oncologist, but for tonight, we just celebrate. You and me, Bella. We're going to beat this. I love you so much."

This time it's my lips against his. I didn't even realize I had the strength to attack his face, but apparently I do. I've slipped him tongue, even. My emotions are everywhere, but my focus is him. He's saved my life.

"I love you, too," I say. "I'm sorry that your short commitment to me has now been extended."

He smirks and pecks my lips softly. "Sweet girl, I'll gladly spend forever with you. Now, let's go find some mistletoe and continue this in a warmer place."


	2. Chapter 2

I've been to the brink of death and back. My body has been through hell with chemo, radiation, and three surgeries — one of which took part of my right lung — but I'm still here two years after that Christmas miracle. I'm not only here, but I'm in remission. It's hard to believe sometimes that as of now, my body is free of cancer, but my scars remind me. They prove I fought the toughest battle of my life and _won._ I call them my tiger stripes and no matter how ugly they are, I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

Edward wouldn't, either.

We're in bed together and my arms are stretched above my head as I sigh happily. His fingertips trace the scar along my right side and I feel the touch of his lips as he kisses it. He tells me I'm gorgeous and that my body is perfect — that it deserves to be worshipped, which is what he's just done.

Morning sex is kind of awesome, in case you didn't know.

"We need to get ready," he says and I know he's right.

It's a little past eight and I have an appointment at ten, which I need to be an hour early for. We probably didn't have time for the spectacular morning sex, but I'm all about living in the moment now and that moment was pretty damn fabulous.

"Let's reschedule it for after the honeymoon," I say.

He lifts his head and cocks his brow, and I know I'm not getting my wish. "You need to get a shower," he says. "It's just a little torture, okay?"

I bark out a laugh. Having radioactive material pumped into my veins isn't just a _little_ torture. Granted, it doesn't actually hurt, but it's the point behind it. I'm tired of being poked and prodded, but it'll never end. The fact that I'm cancer free is nothing short of a miracle, and doctors don't often believe in miracles. They believe in science and I'm an oddity to them. I have regular PET/CT scans, which is basically a test to see if my cancer has come back. They're frequent and annoying, but better than the alternative.

Death.

Living is much better than dying, so I'll put up with them forever — though I really don't have a choice either way. I'm used to them, but today's has me particularly anxious. You see, I'm getting married in a week. Finding out my cancer is back is not my idea of a good wedding gift, so I don't want to do this and take that chance.

Edward won't let me out of it, though. It's not that he wants to make sure his bride-to-be isn't dying before he actually marries her because I have no doubt he'll happily marry me either way, but he wants to be on top of my health. Early detection is the best and possibly only chance of beating cancer again since my five-year survival rate is about one-two percent, so he doesn't let me miss a single test, scan, or appointment. In fact, he accompanies me to every single one.

He was quite literal when he said he'd be by my side through everything.

He's lived up to that promise and then some. I haven't felt alone since that Christmas Eve, and I know I never will again with him and his family by my side. I'm a Cullen and have been since then, but _this_ Christmas Eve we make it official.

I can't wait to be Mrs. Isabella Cullen, so even though I don't want to get out of bed and do this test, I do it because it's one step closer to that moment. No matter what we find out, it won't change anything.

"I'm going, I'm going," I finally say, sitting up and kissing him before climbing out of our bed. "You owe me pizza after this, remember?"

He smiles. "I haven't forgotten our tradition. Now, go before I chase you in there."

I kind of want to be chased, but that'd just be a waste of time. After walking away from our beautiful, heavenly bed, I head straight into the bathroom to get ready. He's probably timing me to make sure I don't pull anything funny, so I try to speed things up a little.

Our shower is kind of amazing, though, so I really don't want to get out. We bought a beautiful, kind of over-the-top townhome in downtown Chicago six months ago, and I love every inch of it. My soon-to-be mother-in-law did most of the decorating and it's incredibly gorgeous. My wildest dreams could have never crafted such a home. It's warm and inviting — the perfect place to wake up in and come home to every day.

It's our home — Edward's _and_ mine. His apartment certainly felt like a home too, considering I'd moved in once I'd been discharged from the hospital after Christmas, but this place . . . it feels like _ours_ , not just his. Our life seems to be coming together full circle and it feels _normal._ It feels so perfectly right.

The dream I never thought would come true has, and I'm not sure I could possibly be any happier. I have an amazing man, a loving family, and my health. I can't ask for anything more.

. . . . .

Even though I spent a little too long in shower, Edward manages to get us to the hospital in time. We head straight to radiology and they're waiting for me. The needle with the radioactive material is too, but first comes the annoying and kind of sad part.

My blood is drawn as Edward sits beside me and I answer the questions the nurse asks without hesitation. I haven't had anything to eat or drink today, I haven't had a fever, and my period has been as close to normal as it gets — which isn't very normal, unsurprisingly. Chemo and radiation mess things up as far as reproduction goes, so the questions bring a little sadness. Edward and I probably can't have kids, which is the only dream that can't be fulfilled — not the regular way, at least.

I had some eggs frozen from before I ever started treatment — a suggestion Edward made after seeing me the first time. Going through such radical treatments at such a young age leaves the probability of a natural pregnancy slim, and when you have your whole life ahead of you, hopefully, that's a pretty big deal. So, I _can_ have a child, but it could need to involve a surrogate or all kinds of intervention.

I'm still not sold on that idea yet, it seems.

"All right, we'll get the test back, then get you started," the nurse says with a smile before leaving with a few vials of my blood and a cup of my pee.

Pregnancy isn't the only thing they check for, but it's all we'll know about today, and fast, too.

"It's going to be clean," Edward says, holding my hand. "Just like it has been, all right? Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," I lie, tapping my foot on the floor. "It'd be my luck, though, you know? We're getting married and everything is going well, so evil cancer could rear its stupid, awful head."

"I think your luck is pretty good, considering you beat terrifying odds. Don't think negatively, please? You'll still be cancer free, and we'll get married and then go on our dream honeymoon."

"You could distract me by telling me where we're going," I say with a sly smile.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "My lips are sealed, sweet girl."

"I tried," I sigh as my phone chimes.

He gives me a look for not turning it off, but I pull it from my purse anyway. It's Alice and she's sending me pictures of the Cullens' backyard — our wedding venue. It only seemed right to marry where we came together, but having a winter wedding outdoors isn't exactly easy. A huge, heated tent was erected for the ceremony and our reception is actually inside the house. Esme's gone completely out of her way, but she says she's more than happy to do it — planning the wedding has been the only thing she talks about and she says she loves every moment of it, which I don't doubt.

Thankfully, it's not going to be huge. I don't have many guests coming — only four, in fact. After getting my second chance, I reconnected with my Dad's best friend, Billy Black. He was practically family growing up, and it's nice having him in my life again. He's coming with his wife, his son, and his son's wife. Edward, on the other hand, had a list a mile long that we had to narrow down. Half of the guests he didn't even care about — the family's business associates and his massive extended family that his grandmother wanted. We crossed those off easily, but Edward has a _lot_ of friends and coworkers. After days of sorting through everyone, we finally decided on a list around sixty — his closest family, friends, and colleagues.

It wasn't easy and we pissed off Nana Cullen — much to Esme's delight — but we didn't want a big wedding with hundreds of guests. We planned it the way _we_ wanted, and I know it'll be perfect.

"Oh god, your parent's kitchen has turned into a restaurant," I say, showing him my phone. "I guess they wanted to get the caterers set up early."

He shakes his head with a chuckle. "You know Mom has been going over her recipes with the chef and is making him test each one to her perfection? I bet that's why they're already setting up."

"That poor guy," I giggled. "She's going to take over his job, isn't she?"

"I wouldn't put it past her. I think she's more concerned about everything going according to plan than we are."

"More than me for sure. As long as we're husband and wife and my dress fits, I'm good."

He kisses me and agrees, telling me that's all that matters. I'm sure things won't go perfectly, but it doesn't matter. Shit happens and nothing can ruin our day — unless one of us doesn't show up, of course.

As I flip through the pictures Alice has sent and reply, it dawns on me that we've been waiting longer than usual. My actual scan was scheduled for ten, but it's already ten-fifteen. They've always been incredibly punctual because of the type of test, so this is odd.

"Do you think something's wrong?" I ask.

He shakes his head, shrugging. "They're probably just behind. If someone had an allergic reaction or they had to redo a scan, it'd push the time back. What time are you meeting Alice and Rosalie for your fitting?"

"One, but I guess it doesn't matter if I'm running behind. I'm just ready to get this over with."

He wraps his arm around me and I lay my head on his shoulder. "I know you are, but positive thoughts, remember?"

"Still cancer free," I say aloud and then chant in head.

"Exactly, so no worrying. If time is an issue, we can always do pizza tonight."

I nod, thinking that actually sounds pretty good. I wouldn't mind eating in the comfort of our own home in sweatpants. I'd prefer it, actually. "Let's do that," I say. "We still have another season to watch of that show on Netflix. You know how I love my marathoning, and I want to finish it before we leave."

"Netflix, pizza, and our couch then. Sounds like a perfect evening to me."

The clock keeps ticking as we wait and I start to actually get concerned. My nurse hasn't even come in to tell us the pregnancy test was negative, which comes back quickly. I don't know what the hold-up is, but we totally could have had time for shower sex.

It's getting close to eleven before someone _finally_ knocks on the door and my stomach drops as Dr. Garrett West enters. Having a visit from your oncologist before the test is even done cannot be good news.

"What's wrong?" I ask before he even has a chance to speak. "Blood work? Vitals? What's going on?"

"Sorry, she's a little nervous, Garrett," Edward says, holding his hand out to shake my doctor's. "Why are you here?"

Garrett sits down in the chair beside me and I'm terrified of what his words will be. "Well, I got a call about your pregnancy test and I asked the lab to run your blood before saying anything to you. Your urine test was positive, Bella."

My eyes literally pop out of my head. Okay, not _literally,_ but it sure feels like it. "How is that possible?"

He smiles and laughs and I don't see how this is funny. Edward's apparently in on the joke, though, and says, "Sex. We have a lot of it."

"Pretty much," Garrett says. "I didn't want to say anything before getting your blood work results back because I figured it was a false positive, but it wasn't."

"She's pregnant?" Edward asks excitedly.

He nods. "Yes, congratulations you two, you're pregnant. Somehow you've beat the odds and left me stumped once again, Bella."

I'm pretty sure my heart has stopped, or maybe it's the entire world. Edward has me in his arms, hugging me, kissing me, and telling me he loves me as I'm still trying to figure out what's going on.

"Did he say I'm pregnant?" I ask in shock between the kisses.

Edward grins and nods as he places his hand over my stomach. "Yes, he did. Bella, we're going to have a baby."

It hits me like a freight train and I think I'm making a squealing sound. "Holy shit!"

"Holy shit," he repeats, laughing before looking past me. "Garrett, I . . . I don't even know what to say."

"Well, don't say too much yet," Garrett says. "With everything your body has been through, Bella, I can't guarantee everything will go well. I normally wouldn't recommend someone with the type of treatments you've gone through to conceive so soon after they've stopped. Yes, it's been almost a year, but there are so many unknowns that I usually say wait two to five years before trying. Obviously from your reactions, you weren't trying."

I shake my head. "I didn't even think it was possible. _You_ said chances of natural conception were slim."

He nods. "I did because by all accounts, you shouldn't be pregnant, which does bring up a decision you two need to make."

I look at Edward and I know whatever he's thinking, it's not good. His wheels are turning and the wrinkle on his forehead that only appears when he's stressed is there. Seeing his worry-wrinkle doesn't give me good feelings — especially when it concerns me.

"What decision?" I ask, looking between them.

Edward responds first. "You haven't been in remission for long and the chance of the cancer reoccurring is still rather high. If it reoccurs during the pregnancy, both of your lives could be in danger. We need to decide if we want to take that risk or if we want to wait until your chances of reoccurance drop. You can't have the normal tests while pregnant and we couldn't start any treatments until the baby is born. Basically, we have to decide if we're willing to risk your life to be pregnant."

"I'm already pregnant, so the decision is made for us, isn't it?"

He looks at me sadly and I know what his next words are. I shake my head, not wanting to hear them but he says them anyway. "We could terminate and try again later."

"No," I say without a second thought. "Absolutely not."

"But we risk your life, Bella."

I shake my head and firmly repeat myself. " _No._ You agree with me, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm scared," he sighs. "It's your body and completely your decision, though. I'll support whatever you chose. I just want to make sure you understand what this could mean."

"If my cancer comes back and the baby hasn't been born, I can't have treatment until it is. It means I could die, but . . . this has happened, Edward. This is a miracle and I can't let it go. I know the risks and I accept them if it means we can have a child — our child."

Tears are in both of our eyes and he nods. I can see the fear in his expression, but I also see hope. I've been through hell and I _survived._ I kicked cancer's ass and that wasn't for nothing. Against every odd, I've gotten pregnant and that's nothing short of a miracle, so I know this will be okay. I know we haven't been blessed just to lose everything.

"I want both of you to discuss all the risks that go along with this pregnancy," Garrett says. "I've also called a colleague and she's agreed to fit you in at four this afternoon for your first prenatal appointment. I know it's short notice, but there are definitely things we need to know sooner rather than later."

I nod and Edward squeezes my hand. "And what about the scan? No scans at all?"

"It'll be a risk-benefit situation, but we can do an MRI instead today. We'll look at your chest and abdomen that way. It won't tell us everything, but we should be able to see any changes in tissue. Sound good?"

"Yeah," I say, smiling as I look up at Edward. "Are you still freaking out internally, too?"

He chuckles. "Yes, but good freaking out. Let's get this over with, so we can get out of here and go home to talk before the prenatal appointment."

I know I have other plans, but his sound better. I can do my dress fitting tomorrow, after all. I'm pregnant and can barely wrap my mind around it, so I want some alone time with my soon-to-be husband slash baby daddy to be excited.

"Okay," I say. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, leaning in to kiss me.

. . . . .

We're out of the hospital a little over an hour later and we stop to pick up our favorite pizza before heading home. I text Alice and tell her something's come up, and she says she'll reschedule for tomorrow or the next day. She asks what, but I don't say.

I need to really believe this is happening and I'm not dreaming before spilling the beans. If we spill them yet, that is. Edward hasn't said a word one way or the other, so that's something we need to discuss.

"How far along do you think I am?" I ask, sitting with my back against the arm of the couch as my legs are draped over his. "I mean, I can't be _that_ far along, right?"

He nods, wiping his mouth of the messy pizza. "My guess is between four and six weeks. Your period is unreliable to go by, so the obstetrician will want an ultrasound to check gestation. We'll know for sure later."

"Are you excited?"

He smiles, but it's not reaching his pretty eyes. "Of course I am. I'm still in shock, but I'm very excited."

"But you're worried, too. Your wrinkle is back."

He chuckles softly and rubs his forehead. "Damn thing," he mutters.

"Let's talk about it."

"I'm terrified," he says simply. "I'm terrified because I could lose you, but I _am_ excited. The idea of being a dad . . . it thrills me, Bella. I just know what can happen and how fast cancer spreads. If it comes back while you're pregnant . . ." He sighs, shaking his head.

I grab is hand, squeezing it as I smile. "Positive thoughts, remember? Chant it in your head; it helps."

"I'm trying to be positive, but I know what can happen. I'm terrified of the cancer reoccurring, but I'm also worried about miscarrying, if you'll have a difficult pregnancy, or birth defects. I don't want anything to happen to you, and I'm afraid that if I truly get excited about our baby, something will happen to it."

I haven't really thought about the risks to the baby. Garrett kind of glossed over them before we left — along with a shitload of other things — but I just figured it'd be okay. After everything else I've gone through, would the universe really take this glimmer of hope from me too? I just can't see it. I can't see being given this chance just to have it ripped away from us.

"You once told me you had faith enough for the both of us, so it's my turn," I say, pressing my hands to his cheeks. "It'll be okay. We _will_ have a happy, healthy baby in a few months. It'll be in our arms and we'll look back on this conversation and you'll thank me for having faith."

He cracks a smile and says, "Are you already getting your 'I told you so' ready?"

"Yep." I nod before leaning in to kiss him. "Let's forget the bad and every risk for just a little bit and be excited, okay? You can ask a billion questions and worry at the doctor's office, but until then, let's celebrate."

"Okay," he agrees with a _real_ Cullen kind of smile and kisses me this time, deeper and longer than before.

Once our lips part, his hand lays against my stomach. There's a start to a mini human being in there, getting all cozy and comfortable for its long stay. I can't believe I'm carrying a child and try to figure out if I feel any different. My boobs are tender and I feel bloated, but I had attributed that to a period soon. I'm not nauseated or incredibly tired, but I guess that'll come in time. I've been through chemo quite a few times, so I'm sure I'll manage morning sickness just fine.

"When do we do about telling people?" I ask as his hand slips under my shirt and caresses my skin. "I'm not sure I can hide this very long, to be honest. Secrets and me . . . we don't along very well."

"Oh, I know that very well, beautiful," he laughs. "Let's see exactly how far along you are and then decide, okay? I'd _say_ let's wait until your second trimester to be safe, but I don't see you lips being sealed that long."

I nod and giggle. "No chance in hell. How about we tell the family before the wedding and keep it between us for a little while as far as coworkers and friends go?"

"That sounds good. I guess it wouldn't be the best idea or make us look very good to announce it at the wedding, huh?"

"Your grandmother would have a _heart attack,_ " I laugh. "I can just picture her disgusted, disapproving look while Esme dances around her."

"It's not like she really thinks we haven't been together, though. We own a house together!"

"But, Edward, the appearance of the Cullen family is all that matters," I say, mocking Nana Cullen. "What happens behind closed doors must stay there for our name to continue to hold any weight."

Nana Cullen is the most extreme socialite I've ever known. The Cullen name means the world to her and she clutches onto the status the family has held with all of her might. Carlisle's brother, Aro, is much like her, which is probably why he runs the business and Carlisle's a doctor. Carlisle doesn't care about family status or money. He cares about people and helping them, which is why he talked his brother into investing in hospitals — pretty much owning a few, in fact. Carlisle makes sure his brother's greed doesn't get in the way of the medicine, while still being able to see patients from time to time. His brother controls the family's massive fortune, making sure the money is still flowing in, while Carlisle lives his own life.

I find it pretty awesome, actually. Carlisle was supposed to control the company, but gave it up to be a doctor. He obviously still has more money than most people know what to do with, but he didn't want everything that title came with — the fame, the power, and even more money. He just wanted to do what he loves.

Lucky for him, he's figured out a way to make the fortune help people, too.

"That's true," Edward laughs. "We'll tell her a while after the wedding, so she can get Uncle Aro to spin the announcement into a feel good article or some bullshit about honeymoon miracles for the press."

I rub my thumb and fingers together for money. "You're welcome, Nana Cullen."

I never realized that being with Edward would thrust me into the spotlight. I mean, all that mattered to me was having him by my side and our love. It's taken some getting used to, but I've kind of adjusted. It's not like we're famous, or that everyday people know who we are, but the Cullen name carries weight. Like Edward, Carlisle, and everyone else, though, I mostly just ignore it.

Edward is Edward to me — not the most eligible bachelor in Chicago, like he used to be called. Hell, I didn't even know he'd been called that until Nana interrogated me after he proposed. She thought a possibly dying woman wanted his money. Ha.

That old bat is legit crazy, not awesome crazy like Esme.

. . . . .

We get good news from the obstetrician — Dr. Kate Delaney. She tells us everything is good on the scan and that our little miracle baby seems to be doing just fine. She points out things I don't see, but Edward does and he's grinning. It all looks like a blob to me.

"I'd estimate that you're right at six weeks along," she says, finally finishing up the not-so-comfortable part that involves a probe and my vajayjay.

I smile as I put my legs down and Edward helps me sit up. "When am I due? Is it bad I haven't had any morning sickness yet?"

I have so many questions that I want to fire at her, but I try to restrain myself. I don't want to look like some crazy, overly-anxious first time mom, but let's be honest, I totally am. I hope Edward figures out how to not worry soon because I want my turn.

She plays with the computer and then hands me a little picture. There's a circle around a blob that she's labeled baby and an arrow pointing to its heart. We heard it. It was _awesome._ Apparently that and how the blob looks is how she knows how far along I am.

Fun fact: apparently you can't hear a heart beat until six weeks. Or that's what she says. I'll ask Edward more about it later. I'm kind of suddenly obsessed with pregnancy and baby information, so we're totally going to be stopping by a bookstore on our way home.

"Your due date is August sixteenth, but a little before or after is normal," she says. "Some women go a week or two after, so don't hold me to that exact date." She laughs a little and we nod. "As far as morning sickness goes, some women don't experience it, which is normal, or it could start at any time over the next few weeks. The first trimester is usually the worst for it."

"And what if my cancer comes back?" I ask. "I mean, I know I can't have treatment while pregnant, but . . . is there a certain point we need to get to for the baby to be okay to come?"

Edward's hand squeezes mine and I know he's worried about this, too. I know in my heart that this baby will be okay, but my cancer will always scare me. The chance of someone surviving my type of cancer that spread so much is so slim, after all. It scares me more knowing it could hurt my baby, though.

"We _want_ you to be full term, but if we're talking worst case scenario, no earlier than twenty-eight weeks," she says. "We're not going to focus on that, though, all right? We'll be diligent taking care of you both, so hopefully we won't have anything to worry about."

Twenty-eight weeks. That means I need to stay cancer free for at least twenty-two more. I've already made it ten months, so what's five more? I kind of want to stare at my lungs and give them evil eyes — all narrowed with a brow raised while pointing at them. I'll even threaten them. A small part is already gone, so the rest better watch it. I'm not afraid of being down some lung tissue.

"So, what's next?" I ask, trying to act a little more hopeful. "Are there books I should read? Things I should do? Things _not_ to do? How many times can I call you with a worry before you get annoyed?"

She laughs and pats my knee. "For you, the limit does not exist. Let's go to my office and go over everything, okay? How many pictures do you want?"

"Uh," Edward says, looking up as if thinking. "Mom will need at least five — in her car, by her bed, in her purse, in her other purse, and in the kitchen."

I giggle and nod, knowing he's one-hundred percent right. I can already imagine Esme's squeal and feel her warm, tight hug. She'll be over the moon to have another grandchild — especially one we never thought possible. I can just picture the bags of things she'll buy, spoiling her grandchild before it's even born.

"So, quite a few prints?" the doctor asks.

We both nod. "Yes, as many as possible," I say. "Even though it just looks like a blob."

"Mom won't care," Edward says, smirking.

I lay my hand against my stomach and can't help but agree. The little thing inside of me doesn't look much like a baby — at all, actually — but it will be soon. It's _my_ baby, and I already love it. In a matter of hours, I've fallen madly in love with a person I haven't even met.

And from the look of Edward's proud grin while he examines the photo in his hands, I know he feels the same. His thumb caresses our little blob and I wonder if he's seeing what I am.

A bright, amazing, beautiful future.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't care," Edward says as we lay in bed and I rest against his chest.

"Well, obviously neither of us will be disappointed either way because it'll be our kid, but you must have a preference," I say.

"What's yours?"

I lift my head, smirking as I narrow an eye. "We're talking about you, remember? You first."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, because you'll change your preference to be opposite mine, just so you have a chance to say you were right if I'm wrong."

He knows me way too well. I guess spending hours upon hours at a time during my treatments and different hospital stays gave us a lot of time to talk during our relationship. He was constantly by my side and took quite a bit of time off of work to take care of me. I was usually too tired to fool around or even kiss him, so we just talked. I know him inside and out — his likes, dislikes, hopes and dreams, why he does what he does, how he got here, and his little quirks like biting pen caps. I know his smile is crooked when he's nervous and that he loves corn but won't touch it if it's off the cob. He collects comic books and has gone to Comic-Con in full costume — like, the fella wore tights and I have pictures. He tells me everything and I do the same in return because talking to him is easier than breathing.

We fit together like perfect puzzle pieces.

"Okay, fine, I'll go first," I say with a huff. "Girl, but it's more feeling than preference."

He grins widely before kissing me softly. "I'd like a girl, but I really don't care."

"Liar," I tease.

"No, as long as it's healthy, I'll be happy."

"And if it's not?" I ask, raising my brow. "What if . . . all the drugs and radiation I've been through cause a problem, like a birth defect?"

Now that it's been mentioned a few times, it's on my mind. There's a chance. I mean, what if my eggs were messed up and now something is wrong with our baby? Garrett said that it's one of the reasons he suggests waiting longer after treatment is over, and Kate told us about all these tests we could run while I'm pregnant.

Edward tilts my chin and kisses me softly, caressing my cheek with his thumb. When he pulls away, I see his compassionate smile. "I'll still be happy. I don't care, Bella. As long as our child can live a full and rewarding life, we'll get through anything else. Birth defects can be repaired or treated, as can illness or injuries."

"What if I miscarry?"

"Then I'll be devastated. I can't imagine how painful it'd be for us and I don't want to, so let's not think that way, all right? If it happens, you and I will get through it. That's all that matters."

I nod then nuzzle my face under his jaw once more. "We can't lose this baby," I say. "We won't."

"Exactly."

He kisses the top of my head as the doorbell rings. My head whips up and both of our eyes are on our alarm clock — quarter 'til ten. No one should be ringing our doorbell this late and it gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that's gas, but still, doorbell does not equal good.

"Stay here," Edward says, moving off of the bed.

I'm right behind him and he shoots me a look. "What? I don't think murderers ring doorbells."

He huffs, surely knowing I won't stay put and starts walking down the staircase. The doorbell rings again and he picks up his pace, but I'm right on his tail.

I see Esme in the glass of the door as we come to the landing and groan, "Oh God, I hope your nana didn't die."

I totally jinxed Nana Cullen by talking shit about her.

"She's not dancing, so I highly doubt it," Edward says, reaching for the doorknob. He opens it and I see Carlisle behind Esme.

"Mom—"

Esme almost knocks Edward over as she rushes inside. "What's wrong? I've been calling for over an hour! Alice said you postponed the dress fitting!"

She looks frazzled — scared and angry and shaking. She's a woman on a mission and for the first time, I feel like I'm in trouble with her. Carlisle looks concerned too, which only makes the guilt feeling worse.

Until I remember I haven't done anything wrong.

Except leave my phone off. Shit.

"We never turned our phones back on," I sigh, shaking my head. "I am so sorry, Esme."

"Is it back?" she asks with tears in her eyes. "What did the scan show? Alice said you said nothing was wrong, but I know you and I know how excited you've been for the wedding, and you wouldn't blow off your final fitting for no reason."

"It's not back, Mom," Edward says. "I mean, we're pretty sure, but she didn't actually have the PET/CT."

"Why not?" Carlisle asks, raising his brow. "Was there a scheduling issue? Did they bump you from today? Because if so—"

"No!" I say, laughing a little.

He looks about ready to go fire someone and I can't help but find it funny. He's usually so calm and gentle, but I swear I see fire in his eyes. So, is this Dr. Hospital-Owner Cullen? He does kind of look intimidating and Edward's stories of stern Carlisle make a little more sense now.

"Then what happened?" he demands. "Why didn't you have the scan? Why didn't you meet Alice and Rose?"

"And why the hell are your phones off?" Esme adds, angry once more.

"We've had an . . . interesting day," I say. "Let's, uh, sit down."

Edward looks at me and knows what I'm thinking. We can't lie our way out of this. I mean, we didn't have time to put a fun story together and we probably wouldn't have agreed on one because his always include him saving the day somehow. We're telling them tonight. His nod is all the approval I need.

Esme and Carlisle sit down in the living room with us, asking their questions once again. I wanted to do this some cool way — like wrap a framed ultrasound picture and call it an early Christmas gift or have an ornament made that tells them. You know, something better than . . . this.

This is lame.

So, I decide to have a little fun.

"I didn't have the scan because they did find something," I say and quickly add, "Not cancer, though."

I want to have fun, but I don't want to terrify them. We've had enough terrifying cancer times to last a lifetime.

"Something in your blood work?" Carlisle asks, creasing his brow in concern.

I nod, taking Edward's hand. "And urine. One of my hormones is elevated."

"They weren't sure at first, so it took us a while to find out," Edward says. "That's why Bella had to postpone the fitting."

"Is it bad?" Esme asks.

"No," I say with a smile as I shake my head. "For once in my life, something being elevated is a good thing."

She looks between Carlisle, Edward, and me. I'm now smiling like an idiot and Edward's trying to keep his grin in check. Carlisle's figured it out, though. His eyes are wide and resting on my stomach as he slowly smiles.

"You're . . .?" he asks.

"Your son performed a miracle and knocked me up," I giggle.

"You're pregnant?" Esme shrieks.

"She is," Edward says with a full on Cullen-grin that matches his father's. "Our afternoon was spent at an OB's office and she confirmed that Bella's six weeks along and everything looks perfectly normal. There will be another Cullen come August."

Esme screams and she's out of her seat in an instant. She about trips over the coffee table to get to me and I just barely manage to stand up in time for her tight embrace. Suddenly we're both crying, squealing, and rocking each other. We're even jumping up and down a little as our arms are locked around each other.

"Oh my god!" she cries, grinning as she pulls back some to look at me. "You had no clue?"

I shake my head. "None whatsoever and I freaked out because Garrett came down to tell us himself."

"And when were you planning on telling us?"

"Soon," Edward chuckles. "We didn't expect you to, uh . . . make a surprise visit."

"You should have," she says, letting me go to embrace him. "My baby's having a baby!"

Esme's squeezing him so tightly that I'm not sure he can breathe, but another pair of arms wrap around me before I can say anything. Carlisle is much gentler and his hug engulfs me. He's become like a father to me over the past two years, so that's what this feels like. It feels like my dad, and I let myself imagine that this hug comes from both of them.

"I'm so, so happy for you, Bella," he says, pulling back and cupping my cheeks. "You just keep surprising people, don't you?"

"It's what I do best, I guess," I giggle. "We have pictures, you know. You can't really see anything, but—"

"Edward, go get them," Esme demands. "Sit down, Bella. Please. Are you feeling okay?"

I do as she asks and nod. They both sit on our couch now, squishing me between them as Carlisle kisses my head.

"I'm okay," I say. "I don't really feel any different, to be honest. My doctor said the morning sickness can start at any time, but I haven't had any yet. I'm just at six weeks, though, so it's still early."

"Who's your doctor?" Carlisle asks.

"Kate Delaney. Garrett recommended her and made the appointment for us. Is she good?"

He nods and smiles. "One of the best we have on staff, and I've only heard good things about her. As long as you two get along, I'd say keep her as your doctor."

"She seems nice, so I will," I say as Edward comes back down from upstairs.

He barely gets to sit down with the envelope before Esme takes it from him. She's flipping through the pictures and oohing and awwing, even though I know she can't make out anything either. Her excitement makes me so happy and though I wish we could have told them differently, I'm just glad they know and we can share this with someone besides ourselves.

Keeping it between Edward and me is fun and all, but I was really looking forward to this part and it's better than I imagined.

"Look at our newest grandbaby, Carlisle," she says, sniffling as she passes him the photos. "Isn't it precious?"

He smiles down at them and nods. "More precious than any six week fetus I've ever seen," he chuckles. "Did you hear its heartbeat?"

"Yeah," Edward says. "It was so incredible to hear. We're lucky we were able to."

"There's no better sound in the world than hearing your child's heartbeat for the first time. These look great, son — everything we should be seeing around six weeks."

"When's your due date?" Esme asks.

"August sixteenth." I grin. "I can hardly believe that this time next year, we'll have a baby to celebrate Christmas with. It seems so crazy, doesn't it? No one thought this was possible."

She shakes her head and smiles. "I knew you two would have a child someway, someday. I see how you are with Seth, so it was just a matter of when and how. This certainly is a Christmas miracle, though."

"We've been blessed with them," Edward says.

And we have. I should have died two Christmases ago, but a miracle happened and I responded to treatment. I don't take the gift I've been given lightly, and I'm thankful every morning I wake up because I know so many others don't get that chance. I'm here for a reason, and even though I'm not sure why I was blessed with a second chance at life, I plan on never taking it for granted.

Not a single second of it.

. . . . .

My rescheduled dress fitting goes off without a hitch on Monday, which is amazing considering that I can't keep anything in my stomach for more than a few minutes. Alice and Rose are none the wiser after being with me for most of the day, so Edward and I decided to tell them at dinner tonight. Since Carlisle and Esme's house is a mess because of the wedding in three days, Rose decided to host a dinner for us at her house.

"I made it!" Edward yells as I hear him running up the stairs to our bedroom.

I glance at the clock, smirking as I finish braiding my hair. "Technically you're two minutes late," I say, seeing him in the mirror.

He drops his jacket and bag on the bed, shaking his head. Tomorrow is his last day of work until we get back from our honeymoon, so he's had late nights for the past few weeks — seeing more patients, performing surgeries, and writing up orders for his partner while he's gone. Rosalie set dinner at seven, but I was pretty sure we'd be late and gave her a heads up. He's only got ten minutes to shower and dress, though, so I'm glad I did.

"I said around six," he says. "I'm going to shower, okay? We _might_ be five minutes late — if that."

He presses his lips to mine, kissing me deeply as our tongues entwine until I start pushing him away. "Shower," I giggle. "And I love you."

"I love you too, sweet girl."

He starts stripping as he walks toward the bathroom and I enjoy the view. I mean, we're already kind of running late, so what's a little more? I'm hornier than I've ever been, but also rather exhausted. Sleep has been winning lately, but horny is in charge now.

I'm in the bathroom, pushing him against the wall and pulling his face closer to mine before he can get the water on. He pulls back after a deep kiss and cocks his brow, looking for confirmation from me as I grin.

"Okay," he laughs, grabbing my ass and pulling me into his arms.

He lifts me up and I lock my legs around him, kissing him as he tries to get us to the bed without falling. The distraction causes a few almost-stumbles, but he gets us on the bed soon enough and his lips begin their descent, starting off on my neck. He sucks and kisses, careful to not leave marks but still making my toes curl. My skin is tingling as his lips graze my breast and I arch off the bed, taking as much as I can get. I still _need_ more . . . everything.

"If we want to get there by seven-thirty-ish, we have fifteen minutes," he says, leaning back on his heels and looking at the clock.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" I ask.

He chuckles before burying his face between my breasts as his fingers trail up and around my thigh. His touch is electrifying and I wrap my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He's slow at first with light, teasing circles on my clit. He knows exactly what I like and isn't letting time make him skip a damn thing. His fingertip moves quicker and quicker as his name pours from my lips. I throw a few, 'Jesus Christs,' in there too to mix it up between moans.

I don't last long, but we're not near done. He lifts himself from me and pulls on my legs so I'm on the edge of the bed. I let my arms fall above my head and look at him, taking in every inch of his body as he teases me with the tip. I'm about two seconds from telling him to get the fuck in me before he thrusts deeply. I feel every inch of him as he rocks on his heels and holds my hip down on the bed.

"Tell me what you want, beautiful."

"Hard," I moan, searching for his arms to hold. "Please, baby."

He does just that, and I'm screaming. It's wave after wave of pleasure, building up to the most incredible feeling of all. He tells me he loves me and lays his body over mine, holding me tightly as he moves. It's amazing and wonderful and loving, and we somehow finish in time.

He's pretty damn good, let's just say.

. . . . .

Rosalie and Emmett live outside of the city near Carlisle and Esme. Their house is big and beautiful, lit up brightly with Christmas decorations galore. With Alice's help, she even managed to get the lights to blink to the tune of different Christmas carols. How? I haven't a clue, but Alice can get computers to do just about anything and Rose easily won the neighborhood decoration contest.

"Hey, we're barely late," I say as Edward pulls into the driveway behind Carlisle's car.

"Barely late, had amazing sex, and now we're about to thrill our entire family. It's been a good day," he says.

"Very! Now let's see if I can keep dinner down. That'd make it an excellent day."

"Has anything stayed down today?"

"Just water and broth. I didn't want to push it, but I kept the vitamins down too."

He nods and leans over the center console, pressing his lips to mine. "Hopefully the morning sickness doesn't stay so bad for long, but you'll tell me if it's too much, right?"

"Of course, handsome," I say, smiling. "We'll be fine."

His hand rests against my stomach, caressing it gently. "Shall we go spill the beans?"

"Yes, please," I giggle, picking my purse and the bag with the gifts up off of the floorboard.

He takes the bag from me and then gets out, rushing to open my door. I've learned to just wait for him because it's one little thing he likes to do for me. It's so simple, really, but it makes him happy and it reaffirms how wonderful he truly is to his core.

We walk toward the door hand-in-hand and it's open before we can even knock. "It's about time!" Rosalie says, wrapping her arm around me and kissing my cheek before hugging Edward. "Come in. Everyone's in the kitchen and the wine is flowing. Esme's a bit lit already."

We laugh and follow behind her into the kitchen, hearing Esme's voice right away. Drunk Esme is the best Esme. She's already the life of the party and hilarious, but a little booze makes her even more fun. There are no words to express how much I adore my future mother-in-law, and she's basically my second favorite person in the entire world just behind Edward — and Alice and Rose completely understand.

The kitchen is a mad house as we're greeted and Alice already has a glass of wine for me on the counter. I know I can't drink it, but it's certainly tempting and the _perfect_ excuse to share our news right away.

"Dinner isn't ready yet, is it?" I ask.

Rosalie shakes her head, looking back at the oven timer. "We'll eat in about twenty minutes. Hungry?"

"Yeah, but first we have something for you all."

Edward puts the bag on the large kitchen island and starts pulling out the square boxes as I look at the names.

"Oh, early Christmas!" Alice says as Carlisle stands from his bar stool for me.

"I think I should be standing," I say as he smirks.

"Probably true, but please, sit?" he requests, eyeing me closely.

"Sit me, Aunny!" Seth says, bouncing in his booster seat.

It's hard to believe that the two year old beside me used to fit so perfectly in my arms. He's still all smiles, but now has a sweet laugh and tons of energy to go along with it. Oh, and he _loves_ to talk. I'm his, "Aunny," and he's my, "Chatterbox."

"S'up, Chatterbox? Are you excited for the wedding and Christmas?"

He bobs his head enthusiastically. "I'm gonna walk with wings. I pwatice lots."

"Up the hall, down the hall, up the hall, down the hall," Alice says. "We've been practicing for the past hour, haven't we, buddy?"

"Yep! I'm good!"

"I'm sure are you," I say. "Your uncle and I have a present for you, and you get to be the first one to open, okay?"

His eyes light up as Edward passes me his box. We had the special announcement gifts made for everyone — even Carlisle and Esme, though it's not a surprise to them. Seth's is easily my favorite because the kid is obsessed with _Star Wars_ already. He can't understand them much, of course, but his love for Chewbacca is real.

"You guys didn't need to get us anything," Rose says.

"Speak for yourself, woman," Emmett laughs. "Tear the paper, little man! Let's get this started."

That's all Seth needs to go at the wrapping paper like a rabid dog. The pretty, metallic snowflake paper is torn into tiny shreds before he gets to the actual box and pulls off the lid.

"It's Chewy!" he yells, pulling out the stuffed Chewbacca toy.

"Press his tummy," Edward says, smirking slightly.

Seth does just that and the recording we set plays, "You're going to be a big cousin, Chatterbox!"

It takes a second to dawn on everyone. I spoke as clearly as I could while recording, so there's no way to misinterpret. Rose erupts first with, "Oh my God!" And Alice isn't far behind with some lovely language. "No fucking way!" My eyes are on Esme, though, as she grins knowingly.

"Okay, now everyone else open theirs," I laugh.

Instead of going at her box, Rose lunges for me and wraps me in a tight embrace as she cries. My soon-to-be sister-in-law is gorgeous — tall, blonde, curvy in all the right places — but she is one _ugly_ crier. She pulls back slightly so we're eye to eye and her mouth is open as she sobs.

"You're having a baby!" she says.

"How?" Emmett asks. "I mean, you're preggers?"

I nod as Rose lets me go so he can hug me. "I am," I say. "Your brother performs miracles, apparently."

"I told you I had magical powers when we were kids, remember?" Edward asks, laughing. He adds in a whisper so Seth doesn't hear, "Magical dick powers."

"Wow, really, Edward?" Carlisle asks incredulously as Esme bursts out laughing.

"Like father like son," she says, winking as Alice, Edward, and Emmett groan.

Clearly, that's enough dick talk.

"I'm so happy for you both," Alice says, hugging me after Edward. "Wait, Mom isn't freaking out."

All eyes are on Esme as she smirks. "I knew first days ago! Haha! Who's the best friend now?"

"I am offended," Alice says, narrowing her eyes at me. "I thought we were close, Bella? You told _her_ before _me?_ "

"To be fair, she ambushed us the day we found out. Remember the missed dress fitting? That's why we were at the hospital for so long."

"I guess I just care a little more," Esme says. "Good things happen to those who freak out and drive into the city at ten o'clock at night."

"I'll have to keep that in mind for the next time she postpones something. But really, I don't even care! You're having a baby!" She bends down and points her finger at my stomach. "You better be a girl."

"Boy!" Seth yells. "I share toys!"

"You'll be an amazing cousin, buddy," I say, kissing his head. "Now, gifts!"

Once everyone gets their chance to hug and congratulate us, they open the gifts. Seth's the only one who got an awesome toy, but the ornaments with the sonogram picture inside for everyone else are loved. They're rather perfect, if you ask me. What better way to save the first picture of our child than in a Christmas ornament?

After all, Christmas has always been the most amazing, special time of the year for us. We've been blessed.


	4. Chapter 4

I've never felt more beautiful in my entire life.

It's not the makeup, or the hair, or even the beautiful white gown. It's certainly gorgeous with its lace in the pattern of leaves on my arms and bodice and its long, flowing white skirt, but it's not the reason I feel so incredible. I'm only minutes from marrying my soul mate — a man who loves me with his entire being. I've dreamed of this day for so long and prayed I'd see it. There were so many times that I believed I wouldn't, but here I am.

I'm alive, I'm healthy, and I'm carrying his child.

I feel beautiful because I am, and I am because of these things. Nothing, and I do mean _nothing_ — not loss or cancer — can take this from me. I've been blessed with the most wonderful gifts in life, and though I went through hell to stand where I am right now, I wouldn't change anything.

"Bella, you look lovely."

I look in the mirror, seeing Carlisle in the doorway behind me. He smiles brightly and I know it's time. He should be standing beside his son, but he chose to stand in for the one man I wish could be here — the one thing I _would_ change, if possible. He's the closest person I have to a father, and I'm honored he agreed to do this simple, yet monumental thing for me.

I twirl around, letting the heavy, warm skirt flow around my feet. "I feel lovely," I say with a smile. "It's actually time, isn't it? This is happening?"

He chuckles softly, reaching for my hand and clasping his around it. "Yes, my dear, this is happening. The guests are seated, the pastor is here, and your soon-to-be husband is eagerly awaiting you. Between you and me, though, if you wanted to run, I'd give you my keys. Edward can be such a pain in the ass sometimes, after all."

"I think it's a little late to run," I giggle, resting my free hand on my stomach. "Besides, only a fool would run from the second best man in the world."

"Second best, hmm?"

"After his father, of course." I smirk.

He tucks my arm under his, leading me out of the room. "I already consider you my daughter, sweetheart. The flattery is unnecessary, but greatly appreciated."

"Duly noted," I say with a soft sigh as the excitement courses through me.

We walk down the stairs carefully, heading toward the backyard. Alice is waiting for us on the patio and hands me the bouquet of flowers with a grin. Since it _is_ Christmas Eve, it only seemed fitting to have red, silver, and gold as our colors, and the bouquet of red roses, tied together with gold and silver lace hits the mark perfectly.

"Don't trip," Alice says with a wink.

"Har-har," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You're the one in stilettos."

I lift up my gown, showing off the white moccasins I didn't mention to her. They were Rose's idea, and a fucking awesome one at that — not very traditional, but perfect for me and plenty warm enough. Freezing my toes off or tripping down the aisle is not how I want this day to go. No one needs to work today.

"Cheater," she teases. "Ready to officially be a Cullen?"

I nod immediately, knowing there isn't a thing in the world that I want more than to be Edward's wife. "Let's do this shit."

Carlisle chuckles softly, clearing his throat. "Lead the way, Alice."

Before stepping off of the porch — the very one I was sitting on when Edward told me I was responding to treatment — she wraps her arms around me and wishes me good luck.

The Cullens property is massive and the wedding venue is just into the tree line. We can see the lights from the porch, but nothing else. They set up the reception tent right behind the house, but we wanted the forest setting for our actual venue. It's cold, but Carlisle helps me into the gray sweater that was made specially for my dress. We told our guests to dress warmly and we even had special blankets made for them, too.

It snowed last night, leaving the beautiful backyard glowing white winter wonderland. I couldn't have asked for a more magical setting, to be honest. It's beyond my wildest dreams and I'm once again reminded of how lucky I am. I went from being a dying orphan with cancer to having a loving, generous family and my health. As we walk toward the tree line, I look up and thank God for this beautiful life He's given me.

"Hey, Chatterbox," I say as Rosalie and Seth catch up to us. "Aren't you looking rather dapper."

"Sorry, he had to pee," Rose sighs, shaking her head. "I asked him about ten times before coming out here and he didn't have to, but the second we got outside, "Mommy, I gotta pee."

I laugh and lean down, hugging my favorite ring bearer. "At least you didn't go in your cute little tux, huh?"

He nods with an adorable grin. "I'm a big boy!"

"Yes, you are. Got the rings?"

"Yeah, no, I didn't trust them with him until now," Rose says, pulling them from her coat pocket. "Pillow, little man."

He lifts his hand with it and she ties them in place before making sure he'll hold it properly. I have no doubt my chatterbox has got this down pat. He knows his job well and he'll be the best damn ring bearer to ever walk down an aisle.

On cue, the music starts and Rose takes her son's hand. We didn't have any adorable little girls to do the job, so she's my flower girl . . . or woman, I suppose. She sprinkles the rose petals as they start the down the actual aisle, and Alice is close behind. Carlisle and I inch a little closer and I can see the guests in the back, but not my handsome fiancé. I'm tingling with excitement, inching closer and closer until I feel the tug of Carlisle's arm.

He smiles lightly. "Soon, sweetheart. My mother may have a heart attack if she sees you sprinting down the aisle, like I know you want to do."

I'm guilty as charged and sheepishly grin while waiting for my music to start. It gets to the point of tapping my foot before it's _finally_ time. The string quartet changes their tune and I start walking before Carlisle has a chance to realize it's time. He gives me a knowing smile and speeds up his steps slightly for me.

The moment my eyes meet Edward's, everything else fades away. I know the wedding is beautiful and the forest is glowing with twinkling lights, but I see nothing but the man of my dreams. His smile widens into a grin as we inch closer and closer. He looks as happy as I feel, and though I've never had a single moment of doubt, his expression would have erased any if I did.

He loves me.

It's in his eyes and smile and the way his hand is already reaching out for mine as I get closer. He mouths the words, "I love you," and such a huge part of me just wants to start running. We're so close, though, and I know Nana Cullen is watching. I suppose I shouldn't piss her off now.

"Bella," Edward says with a wide grin, clasping his hand around mine tightly. "You look . . . there isn't enough time for all the words — gorgeous, beautiful, astounding, wonderful, lovely, and glowing are just a few. Thank you, Dad."

Carlisle smiles, letting my arm go before patting his son's shoulder. "I have no doubt that the two of you will make each other happier than words can express. Take care of her, son. She deserves only the best, and I know that's you."

"I promise I will," he says.

Stepping onto the raised altar, Edward takes my other hand as well, holding them both tightly. It's so incredibly hard to take my eyes off of him to look at the pastor, but I manage it, knowing what's to come. The older gentleman begins the ceremony and, to be honest, I barely hear the words he says.

I never thought it'd happen so quickly. I thought every moment would be etched in my mind, but each time I look in Edward's eyes, everything fades away once again. We wrote our own vows and Edward begins, surely hearing the pastor, unlike me.

"From the moment I laid my eyes on you, I loved you," he says. "I fought the feeling with everything I had, knowing it was wrong, knowing you weren't meant for me, and knowing I could never be the man you deserved. You act as if I did you a favor, sitting by your side while you were in the hospital and taking care of you in every way I knew how. But, my love, it's you who has given me the greatest gift of all. You've given me your precious time and your love.

"I know in my heart that I can never give you everything you've given me, but I promise to spend every single day of my life trying. I promise to cherish you, to care for you, to be by your side — through the good and bad — and to never take a moment with you for granted. We know better than anyone how precious time is and you have all of mine. I love you, Isabella Marie Swan. I love you with every fiber of my being."

I promised myself no tears, but I'm a fucking mess as he speaks from his heart. He's not reading off of a piece of paper. He's looking in my eyes and putting feelings that I cannot express into words — beautiful, lovely, perfect words. He's smiling as he wipes away my tears and the pastor tells me it's my turn.

Unlike him, I _did_ need to write my words down. I pull the piece of paper from my pocket with trembling hands and clear my throat, trying to reign in my emotions.

I look at the notes I made before meeting his gaze once more. "I shouldn't be here today. I should be long gone, in fact. Two years ago, at this very house, you fulfilled every dying wish I had and then went beyond what I ever could have hoped for. Edward, you're the reason I'm standing here. You're the reason my heart beats. You saved my life, and then brought me to life — with every look, every touch, and every word.

"If I were to have dreamed up the most perfect life, it wouldn't come close to reality you've given me. I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to support you as you've done for me. I promise that a day won't go by without showing you my love. Thank you for this beautiful life, Edward Anthony Cullen. I love you with all of my heart and soul."

The pastor doesn't even get a chance to speak before Edward's lips are against mine. I hear laughter behind us, but I don't care. We've never been much for the usual, so I like that he couldn't wait. Hell, I've been ready to jump him since I first laid eyes on him. He's absolutely incredible looking in his tuxedo and easily the handsomest man in the world.

And now he's mine.

"Sorry," Edward whispers, chuckling as his fingertips graze my cheek. "You were saying?" he asks the pastor.

"I believe we have some, "I dos," to say and rings to exchange before you do that again, son," the pastor laughs softly. "Let's get to it."

After repeating after him and saying I do, we slip our rings onto each other's fingers and soon get to kiss again. He holds me tightly, dipping me backwards as our lips move together. The guests cheer, I think, though I'm rather preoccupied to know for sure.

"I love you, Bella," Edward says, grinning as tears gleam in his eyes. "Thank you."

I giggle, pecking his lips once more. "I love you too, Dr. Pretty Eyes."

The old nickname I once confessed to him brings more laughter before I'm suddenly swept over his shoulder. He carries me back down the aisle as our guests clap. Carlisle, Esme, Rose, Alice, Emmett, and even little Seth are cheering him on. It's the most magical feeling, knowing I'm now Mrs. Edward Cullen.

. . . . .

Our honeymoon takes us to the most magical places I'd only ever dreamed of seeing. We woke up in London on Christmas morning and explored a little more of England before visiting Paris in France. Edward plans our honeymoon using things I've told him over the years. We visit museums, historical sights, and even kiss at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It's magical and wonderful and more than I could have dreamed of seeing, but it's _who_ I see it with that makes it so special.

My husband is careful and cautious, but he doesn't let his fear intrude on our plans. We spend a couple days lying around as I recoup my energy and morning sickness rears its ugly head a couple times, but it doesn't take away from our amazing honeymoon. He asks multiple times a day if I'm all right, but it doesn't annoy me. Edward asking if I'm okay is far from a new occurrence, after all.

The last leg of our trip takes us to the Caribbean to soak up the sun and just relax. St. Lucia is paradise and I've spent the last three days on our villa's patio, in the pool, and in the bed. It's been marvelous, to say the least.

"Did you know the uterus grows almost _five-hundred_ times its normal size during pregnancy?" I ask, eyes wide as I look ever at Edward from my book.

"Yes, I did," he says, adjusting his sunglasses and turning his head toward me. "From the size of a peach to a watermelon. You're getting freaked out, aren't you?"

He has that knowing smirk as I huff and shut the pregnancy book. He told me not to read it yet, knowing the minor details no one mentions lie inside. I'm going to poop . . . in front of my husband, my doctor, a bunch of nurses, and probably my mother-in-law. Supposedly I won't care, what with having a baby at the end of it, but it still freaks me out. Also, I may start lactating later on by just being around a baby. Like, sudden boob milk, bam! I'll be a pooping, milking, and peeing mess. Yeah, pee. I'll probably piss myself at some point, too.

Pregnancy sounds like _so much_ fun.

"It'll be fine, Bella," he says, sitting up and nudging closer to me on the oversized lounge chair. "None of the freaky pregnancy stuff will matter in a few months. We'll have freaky baby stuff to worry about then."

"The book said I might get acne again." I pout. "I don't want to look like an awkward teenager. Will you still love me, even if I'm all pimply?"

He chuckles, pecking my lips softly. "All the pimples in the world couldn't change my love for you, beautiful. You'll be gorgeous no matter what. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to seeing you waddle like a penguin. I think you'll be cute."

He tries to kiss my jaw and neck, but I push him away playfully. "I'm not going to waddle, asshole."

"You might, but again, so fucking cute. You're already the most beautiful woman in the world, so obviously the pregnancy will just make you more so. Don't stress over how your body will change, and especially not over how I'll feel about it. I can assure you that I'm quite looking forward to watching our baby grow, and I'm already in awe of your strength and body for making this possible."

I smirk slightly and sigh. "Okay, but you'll rub coconut butter on my belly and paint my toenails for me when I can't reach anymore?"

"Happily." He grins. "They may turn out horrible and you'll have to ask Rose or Alice to redo them, but I'll give it my best shot. Anything for you."

"I knew I married you for a reason," I say, pushing myself up and over his lap.

I cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss him deeply. This _is_ our last full day of our honeymoon, so we might as well enjoy it. And from the thing poking me in the ass, I know he has the same idea.

"Bed?" I ask, breaking the kiss.

He grips my hips as he sits up and I wrap my legs around him. "Oh, hell yes," he says, standing up wasting no time in taking us through the patio doors and into our room. He doesn't even pull the damn curtain closed, but it's not like it _really_ matters — private beaches have lovely perks like solitude, after all.

He unties the four knots holding my bikini together in record time and his mouth leaves a trail of kisses as he works his way down my body. My body jolts as his tongue swirls over my clit and I hold the sheets tightly in my hands, spreading my legs even more for him. I swear his tongue is magical. Or maybe he's just really good at this. Like, _really_ good.

He knows just how to move his tongue so that I'm in heaven. It's all he needs to do to get me screaming and I don't even bother holding back. I'm fucking breathless by the time he lays a kiss on my stomach before moving back up my body. He knows I need a minute, but I can see ideas swirling around in his head. It's in his eyes as he meets my gaze.

"Good girl," he says, kissing me. "I love hearing you scream my name."

"I love that thing your tongue does," I giggle softly.

"My tongue is nothing compared to yours, sweet girl," he teases. "But let's see how you feel about that thing my fingers do."

"I'm pretty sure I love those too, but you know, might as well double check."

"We've got all day and night to double, triple, and quite possibly quadruple check." He smirks before laying another kiss on my lips and working his way back down between my legs.

. . . . .

Aside from needing a little extra rest and having some issues with keeping everything I ate down, I couldn't say a single day of our honeymoon was anything less than perfect. Except today. Today can go fuck itself.

"You can't fly this sick, Bella," Edward says, rubbing my back as I hover over the toilet. It's just like old times, except my comfy chemo knee pillow is at home and I'm kneeling on hard tile in the villa's bathroom.

"I'm okay," I say, reaching for the water bottle.

I feel everything but okay, actually. Edward made us a late night snack around two in the morning and I've been sick as a dog since then. He's fine, so I'm sure it's just the pregnancy, but it's now eight and we have a plane to catch. The fact that I can't get off the floor may put a kink in that plan, though.

"I'm sure you will be, but I'm not putting you on a plane until I know you are," he says. "I'll call the property manager and see if we can extend our stay another day and rebook our flight for tomorrow."

I shake my head, wanting to go home today. I've loved every minute of our trip, but I'm ready to see our family and to sleep in our own bed. I miss my home and right now I just want to be there — not sitting on this hard floor.

"Maybe just rebook for later today?" I ask. "It'll ease up soon and I'll be able to keep something down. I just need that and a nap, and I'll be fine. I'm ready to go home."

"I'll see what I can do." He kisses my forehead before standing up. "I'm going to make some calls, but I'll be right back. Try the crackers again soon, please?"

I nod, though my stomach churns at the thought. I've been through hell with chemo and this shouldn't even phase me, but it is and I don't know why. I've had so much worse — vomiting to the point of passing out and even throwing up blood. Morning sickness cannot _possibly_ be that bad, but I feel like I've been hit by a train and I just want to crawl under the covers and wait for this to pass.

"Mommy's going to need you to ease up on her," I whisper, looking down at my stomach as I rub my hand over it. "You can do whatever you want to me once we get home, but please, Momma needs a break, sweet thing."

I know this isn't actually the baby's fault and it's not like asking will change anything, but I do it anyway. Somehow, talking is making me feel just a little bit better. It's a lot nicer to talk to my child inside of me than cancerous lungs. I pleaded with those, too — mostly cursed at them, actually.

"There's going to come a time when we want _all_ the food in the world and I promise we're gonna eat it. You're going to be the happiest little unborn baby in the world then, but for now I just need you to do this one thing for Mommy. Let me eat a freaking cracker. Please?"

I timidly reach for a saltine on the counter and sit my water bottle next to me on the floor. I break it in quarters and slowly chew one piece at a time. The first bite goes down easily enough.

"So far so good," I say, giving my soon-to-be bump a caress. "We've got this shit."

I form my hand into a fist, softly bumping it against my stomach before hearing Edward's chuckle. I look up, narrowing my eyes. "We're having a moment," I say.

"Clearly. You just fist-bumped our baby." He smirks. "How's it going?"

"A quarter of a cracker down. Woo!"

He sits back down next to me and rubs my back. "You've totally got this shit."

I manage the whole cracker and some water and then wait a few minutes to have another. Both stay down miraculously. Edward's booked us for a later flight and cleared another day in the villa — just in case — so once I'm sure my stomach is settled, we crawl into the bed for a nap. He wraps me tightly in his arms, holding me against his chest as I bury my face in the calm of his heart beat. The exhaustion wins out almost immediately and I fall into a deep sleep beside him.

. . . . .

I feel almost normal when I wake up, but Edward makes me test the waters before we actually leave. After keeping half a bowl of chicken noodle soup down, he's satisfied enough to let me fly. It's a long way home — a ten hour trip and a stop in Miami — but we get into Chicago around midnight and Carlisle is waiting for us at baggage claim. Though I woke up well-rested, I'm anything but that now and Edward's arm around me is the only thing keeping me upright.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," Carlisle says, taking Edward's place and embracing me. "I see you managed to get a little sun. You're absolutely glowing."

"You're a horrible liar," I scoff. "I'm dead on my feet, but blissfully happy. And yep, I managed to tan and not burn as red as a lobster."

"See? Glowing and not a lie," he chuckles. "You do look exhausted, though, so hopefully your bags come out quickly and we can get you home."

"I'm sorry you had to come out this late."

He waves me off, shaking his head. "No need to apologize. I'm just glad you were able to make it home today. It's not been that bad the entire trip, has it?"

"No, no, not at all. I've been mostly fine until this morning. Honestly, the baby's been pretty easy on me, but we had a little discussion about today's funny business."

"I'm sure you put it straight. Let's go sit down until Edward gets the bags, okay?"

I nod, loving that idea. He guides me over to a chair and we talk about the honeymoon and what all we did as we wait for Edward to pull all of our bags off of the belt. Carlisle resumes his position of keeping me off the ground and we finally leave the airport just before one. I'm asleep before the car even starts and when I wake up, it's because Edward is sliding his arm under my legs to get me out.

"Thank you, Dad," he says as I barely open my eyes and see our beautiful home. "I'll call you in the morning and let Mom know if Bella's up for lunch."

"Take care, son," Carlisle says.

"Thank you," I whisper and yawn, looking into the car as Edward lifts me out. "Love you."

"I love you too, Bella, and I'm so glad that you're officially my daughter. Go take care of my grandbaby by getting some rest, okay? Sleep well."

"You too," I mumble, waving as Edward pushes the door closed with his foot.

Instead of going in through the garage like normal, he carries me up the front steps to our open front door. He stops before crossing the threshold and presses his lips to mine.

"Ready for the next chapter of our lives, Mrs. Cullen?" he asks with an adorably handsome grin.

"Lead the way, hubby," I giggle, tilting my chin to kiss him once more as I hide a yawn.

Yes, I'm more than ready for the next chapter. I'm going to enjoy and savor every moment of it, in fact, starting with right now as he crosses into our home. He _may_ have done this when we first moved in, but I like this time even more. You can never go wrong with having a handsome doctor carry you, after all, and it's even better when he's your husband.


	5. Chapter 5

"Yeah, this isn't fucking weird at all," I mumble to myself as I adjust my laptop screen. I scoot back on the bed and make sure I'm in frame before smiling. I'm not entirely sure how else to start this, so I begin with the formalities. "Hi, sweet thing. I'm your mommy."

It still sounds so strange to say, but my small bump proves it's real. I'm going to be a mom. I'm going to be a mom, and I might not get the chance to raise my baby. It's breaking my heart to think about — to think it might not know me or how much I love him or her. I want to leave something as proof. I want my child to play a video and know how much I wish I could be there.

"I've loved you from the moment I found out about you," I say, grinning as I rub my bump. "You're my miracle baby and the most precious gift life has ever given. I can't feel you move yet and I don't know if you're a boy or a girl, but I know how much I love you. I wish I were there, baby."

Tears form in my eyes, but I try to hold back. I don't want my child to see me cry. I want this to be something happy — a wonderful way to remember me.

"I may not be right beside you, but I'm with you. I'm the soft breeze, the scent of lavender, the first snowfall, and the warm sun. When you experience these little wonders, remember it's me saying I love you. You are my beautiful, wondrous child and I'll always be your momma. I hope I have many, many years with you, but if that doesn't happen, all you need to know is that you, my dear, are worth everything."

I can't hold the tears back any longer after that, so I turn off the recording before it gets ugly. I didn't think this would be so hard, but I shouldn't be surprised. If my child ever sees this video, I'll be dead. I won't be here to wipe away the tears or hold him or her. I won't be able to say the right things — the things it needs to hear. This is a nice idea, but it's not what I want. I don't want to plan for my death just yet. I need to _at least_ get to know my child before leaving it.

"Bella?"

I hear Edward's voice downstairs and wipe away my tears. I quickly shut the laptop screen as he's walking up and try to look like I wasn't just sobbing. Then again, it isn't entirely unusual for me to cry for no reason, so I can probably play this off.

"Hey," I say as he steps through our bedroom doorway. "You're home early."

"Uh, no . . ." he says, perplexed. "You have a doctor's appointment in a half hour, remember?"

"Oh, shit!" I _completely_ forgot. He reminded me this morning and it's even on the calendar in the kitchen, but I spaced it. "I forgot. Um, let me get dressed. Sorry, I've been . . . pregnancy mood, brain, stuff." I wave my hand around my head as he smiles softly.

"It's fine, beautiful," he chuckles as I slide off the bed in front of him. He dips his head, capturing my lips as I almost walk past him. I quickly stop and relish his kiss, feeling his calm wash over me. Hell, I almost forget about what I just recorded for a few moments. "Now get dressed," he adds, kissing me softly once more.

I hurry into the bathroom, putting on a little mascara and freshening up before changing into jeans and a sweater. It's absolutely freezing outside — more so than any other February I've experienced in Chicago. The brutal cold is almost painful and even with a sweater, jacket, and a fucking parka, I'm still struck with shock of it when I step into the garage. I almost run to the passenger's side of Edward's car, which is thankfully still a little warm thanks to his drive home.

Fuck this winter.

I love winter, but fuck this one.

"Holy shit," I sigh, turning the vents toward me and hitting the seat heater button the moment the car's on. "How cold is it?"

"Seven degrees," he says, shaking his head. "Do you want the blanket for now?"

He reaches into the backseat, pulling up the blanket we put in here for _emergencies_ — not every day driving. It was in the trunk, but I had to get it out a couple weeks ago. He lays it on my lap and I tuck it around my legs as he opens the garage and backs out. There's still snow on the ground, which is quite possibly left over from last month because nothing has melted. In the last week alone we've gotten ten more inches, but the bile is much higher than that.

"This car should warm up instantly," I say, shivering as I duck my head closer to the vent.

"I'll let Volvo know you're dissatisfied," he laughs.

"Please do. It's not that your car isn't lovely, but Momma doesn't do single digits so I'm a little grumpy that I haven't even actually been outside and I'm frozen."

He glances over at me at a stop light, smiling softly. "Momma."

"Daddy." I smirk. "There's a bump under this somewhere and I'd rub it if I could."

"Later." He winks. "But really, I'm loving the sound of those names. I think they fit us. An adorable little voice will be saying them soon."

"And until then we can just practice."

Hopefully I'll get to hear that voice, but if not, it's at least wonderful hearing Edward say it. I'm going to try to prepare a little better for my next video — maybe talk about Edward so the dying thing isn't at the forefront of my mind. As hard as it is to think about, the idea _is_ good and I want to leave more for my child. I want to tell him or her about their daddy. There's a chance he won't be the same man after I'm gone — still incredible, I'm sure, but after losing someone you love . . . you're not the same anymore.

After my mother died, my father changed drastically. We went through a horrible time after her death because he couldn't cope with the loss. Hell, there were days he couldn't even look at me because I reminded him of her. I know Edward won't go down that path of soothing his pain with alcohol, but I still worry. Of course my father got through it, became an amazing single father, and never picked up another bottle, but it took near rock bottom for him to do so. I never want this baby to feel like I did — to worry what pain it causes Edward when he looks at him or her.

I have no doubt Edward will be the most wonderful father, but I want this baby to know the love that created it — to know how amazing its father truly is. He's made me the happiest woman alive and I want to share that.

"The appointment was at one, wasn't it?" I ask as Edward pulls into his spot in the hospital garage.

"Yeah, but I already texted Garrett," he says. "He's taking his one-fifteen first, so we're good."

I nod, feeling a little bad that I wasn't ready when he got home to pick me up. This appointment isn't really all that big of a deal, though. Garrett's just being cautious and wanting to check up on me throughout the pregnancy, so it's nothing more than a routine exam and blood work. Truthfully, though, I could have cancer again and nothing but a CT would show it right now. If I had physical symptoms, I'd be way too late to do anything — not that I could do much now anyway.

I'm really only doing this to appease Edward.

"All right, straight to the elevators," Edward says as I pump myself up for the inevitable cold.

"Warm beach, warm beach, warm beach," I chant, throwing my hood up. "Let's do this shit."

He turns off the car and then quickly gets out, rushing around to my side. The bitter cold crept inside the moment his door opened, so once mine's open just enough to squeeze out of, I jump out and grab onto his arm, trying to absorb his body heat. Thankfully his assigned spot is only about twenty feet from the elevator, but we still run to it.

. . . . .

Garrett is still in with his other patient when we sign in, so instead of freezing my butt off in a cold exam room, Edward and I wait in his office. We just got a few wedding portraits back, beautifully framed and all, so Edward brought three in for his office. This is the first time I've seen them hung, and they're absolutely gorgeous. One is a candid of our first dance, one of our kiss as _actual_ husband and wife, and one with our family. They hang behind his desk, framed by the large bookcases on both sides.

"I need this one again for the house," I say, pointing to our first dance. "And holy fuck, why do you still have this out?"

I pick up the old photo and shake my head. It was taken after my most terrifying surgery. I'm in a hospital bed and Edward is laying beside me, holding me as we talk about something — I don't even remember what, to be honest. Alice took it, I think, and Edward loves it for some reason. I'm bald, covered in tubes and wires, and look almost deathly, so I don't see what's so great about it but he does.

"Because it's one of my favorite pictures," he says, smiling as he takes it from me. "This was the moment I knew you'd beaten all the odds and done something miraculous. You woke up so damn feisty and I just . . . knew."

"I punched a poor nurse," I laugh. "Oh, I still feel bad."

"To be fair, it was more of a light tap. You didn't have much strength behind that one, which was good considering it was intended for me."

I don't exactly remember what happened when I woke up from surgery, but everyone else does. I was intubated and obviously did not enjoy that, so I wanted the tube out of my throat. The meds made me a little a bit agitated, so when Edward said no, I swung. To be honest, it was his fault for undoing the restraint on my wrist — which was there for that _very_ reason.

And so I didn't pull the tube out on my own, which I apparently also attempted.

"You should have taken the tube out faster." I smirk as someone knocks on the door.

It opens and one of the nurses, Sue, pops her head in. "He's about ready for you, Bella," she says before her eyes light up. "Oh my god, I can kind of see it!"

"Really?" I grin, turning to the side. "It's tiny, but it's totally there!"

She seems to forget about taking my vitals and comes in the office. Sue is probably my very favorite nurse here. She's been a nurse for thirty-some years and has always been incredible to me. In fact, during my very first appointment with Edward, she was my nurse. It was just as much fun telling her about the baby as it was the family.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," she says. "I'm so excited for you both. When do you find out what you're having?"

"Next month," I sigh. "I probably shouldn't want time to fly by, but I really can't wait to stop calling her or she, 'it.'"

She laughs softly, nodding. "I understand. I was surprised with my first, but I couldn't wait with the other two. It makes it a heck of a lot easier to decorate, too."

"Is it just me or did you have an _incredible_ urge to paint, too?" I ask, genuinely curious. I really, really, really want to paint and decorate and smell baby blankets. I want to fold little clothes and organize. I know this is a thing — nesting, that is — but I thought it wouldn't kick in until closer to my due date.

"Oh my god, yes," Sue says. "I loved decorating. During my second pregnancy, I redid the entire house and my husband was _pissed,_ but couldn't say a word. Remember to use that against Dr. Cullen. He'll agree to anything for you right now." She winks.

"He always has," I laugh.

"I'm wrapped around her finger," Edward sighs, softly chuckling. "So, how about those vitals?"

I narrow my eyes at him, wanting to put off this as long as possible. Of course Sue takes me right down the hall after his reminder, but I suppose it isn't all that awful. We keep talking about the baby as she wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm, and I tell her about the things I've already found — adorable onesies, cute blankets, and even a high-tech baby monitor that connects to our phones, iPads, and laptops. That's pretty fucking awesome, if you ask me.

"Blood pressure and pulse are a little elevated," she says, pulling the pulse-oximeter off of my finger. "I'm going to check them again before you leave today, okay? I'm sure you're just nervous."

I nod. "Like always."

She pats my hand before tucking the piece of paper in her pocket. She's barely gone for a minute before Garrett walks in, but it's enough time for Edward to find my hand with his. He stands close to me as Garrett comes in, holding his hand out to me.

"How are you feeling, Bella?" he asks, nodding at Edward.

"A little nervous and cold, but otherwise wonderful. Oh, and a little rounder. See?" I show off my bump, bringing a smile to his face. "Miracle baby is doing just fine, so don't find anything wrong with me, please?"

"That's certainly my hope," he says, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. "Edward kept me up to date about your morning sickness. Has it resolved now that you're in your second trimester?"

"Yep, for the most part. A little queasy sometimes, but it's usually because of a smell. Honestly, it was nothing compared to chemo treatments. I feel better than ever."

Okay, that's not entirely true, but I mostly feel wonderful. It's really just the minor inconveniences like peeing entirely too often, having to rig my jeans by using a hair-tie for extra room, and not being able to sleep on my stomach. The little aches freak me the fuck out, too. Those things aren't so wonderful, but the reason for them is completely worth it.

And I definitely don't feel cancer-y.

"I'm so happy to hear that," Garrett says, walking back over to me and starting his exam.

His trained fingers move along my jaw and down my neck slowly, carefully checking for any swelling of my lymph nodes. The room is so quiet that I'm afraid to even breathe wrong. Edward's eyes are on his friend's face, watching closely for any miniscule sign of concern. It's unnerving, and I can't stand it.

"Is Charles too outdated to be a middle name now days?" I muse, laying back and lifting my arms. "Would you be okay with that, Edward?"

My husband nods, eventually breaking his stare and looking at me. "Yeah, I think it'd be a great way to honor your father, but what if it's a girl?"

"My mom's name instead?"

"Or Charlotte," Garrett suggests. "You can sit up, Bella."

Edward pulls on my hand, helping me do so. Garrett pulls his stethoscope from his pocket next and the silence returns. I can't even break it now because his concentration needs to be solely on my lungs. I steal a glance at Edward as I breathe like I'm instructed and I swear that if he could, he'd be sharing earbuds with Garrett.

My husband can somehow make a routine exam intense, but thankfully it doesn't phase my doctor.

"All clear," Garrett says, pulling the buds from his ears and tucking the instrument back in his lab coat pocket.

"So we're good?"

"Your lungs sound perfect and there's no swelling of your lymph nodes," he says. "Of course we'll do blood work as well, but you don't need to stress yourself out. I know it's impossible not to worry some, but I'm quite sure your blood pressure has _never_ been so high before."

"It hasn't," Edward says. "Would you mind taking it again?

"Telling me not to stress and then telling me something's wrong kind of defeats the purpose of telling me not to stress," I say. "How high was it?"

"One-forty-five over ninety-five, and yeah, I was planning on checking it again once she was more settled. One high reading doesn't really tell us much, Bella. I do want you to keep an eye on it, but I think in your case, it's probably stress. Edward's told me you have trouble sleeping."

Of course he has. "Sometimes, I guess. It seems like I constantly have to pee, so I'm up and down a lot."

"And you toss and turn all night," Edward adds.

I shoot him a glare as Garrett pulls the stool over and sits in front of me. "We do have options to screen for cancer," Garrett says. "I know you want to be as safe as possible for the baby and avoid CT scans all together, but if we just do your chest, there's very little risk to the baby. We'll take every precaution."

I shake my head. "I don't care how little the risk is. There's still a risk, so I don't want to take any chances unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm stressed, but I'm fine. Yeah, I'm scared of the cancer coming back, but . . . I'm dealing."

"Throwing yourself into projects isn't exactly dealing," Edward says. "You haven't been to a support group since we've been married and you don't like talking about it."

"And you think I want to talk about it here?" I ask, suddenly feeling set-up.

"I think you need to talk about it somewhere, and we're your two best resources," he says. "I'm scared, too."

"But you'll be here," I sigh. "You'll get to raise our baby, hold its hand, wipe its tears, kiss the booboos, and read it books before bed. It's not cancer I'm afraid of. I'd go through the hell of treatment every day of my life if it means I get to see our baby grow up. I'm scared of what I'll miss, Edward, and I think it's perfectly reasonable for me to be."

He squeezes my hand as he nods. "It is, but you're not in this alone. I'm absolutely terrified of doing all those things you mentioned alone. They're what my nightmares are made of, but I don't keep it bottled up. We communicate so well usually, but we haven't been lately — not about this. I can tell it's eating you up inside."

Tears well up in my eyes and I try to blink the burn away, but it's no use. "I guess I've been kind of . . . closed off a little — in my own head, you know?"

"I know, but you don't need to be."

"Your concerns are legitimate, Bella," Garrett says. "We can't tell you the future, but we can prepare and plan for it."

"I didn't realize you're also a therapist, Garrett," I say, wiping my tears.

"Jack of all trades," he teases.

"It kills me to think I won't be here and our baby will grow up without a mom, like I did. It was _hard,_ and I don't want this baby to ever know that kind of pain — especially not so young. I'm afraid I'm going to die before she'll remember me and nothing can make that painful thought go away."

Edward pulls his hand from mine and wraps his arm around my waist, holding me close to his side as I cry. "I'm afraid I won't do your memory justice," he admits. "And I'm afraid I won't be a good father without you. The thought of living without you has always destroyed me, but raising our child without you? I can't fathom it."

"You'll be an amazing dad no matter what."

"I hope so, but I know in my heart I'll always be better with you by my side. The thing is, though, we don't need to worry so much about those what ifs. You've overcome every obstacle put in front of you, so who's to say you won't continue to do so? We can always discuss these what ifs and even try to plan for them some, but they shouldn't be our focus. Our focus should be here." He rests his hand on my stomach and kisses my temple. "Your health is a major part of hers, though. I think Garrett's right about a chest CT. I would never put you or this baby at risk, beautiful. If I truly thought it were dangerous in the slightest, I wouldn't suggest it. For now it would just be a CT, not a PET scan with a tracer."

"It won't tell us as much as a PET scan, but it'll give us some peace of mind," Garrett says.

"Do you really want me to, Edward?" I ask, looking up at him as he wipes my tears.

He nods and I know he truly believes it's for the best. I _would_ feel better knowing. Stressing myself out isn't good for the baby, so it's kind of like picking the lesser of two evils. They say ignorance is bliss, but I'd rather not die without some kind of heads up.

"Okay," I sigh. "I'll do it."

Edward and Garrett both smile and I _somehow_ already have an appointment at three o'clock for a chest CT. We still have plenty of time and radiology is just a few floors down, so we continue to talk about my worries for a bit longer. My blood pressure is still up when Garrett takes it once more, but it's not quite as high this time. I'm told to check it twice a day and if it stays elevated, to call Kate.

Not my best appointment, but not my worst either.

. . . . .

The preliminary report — meaning Edward — says my lungs are clear, but we'll get the official report from a radiologist in a few days. Edward thinks I'm okay and that's all I really need to feel a little lighter. I relax against him on our couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table and slowly spoiling my dinner with chocolate truffles.

"All right, so I'm thinking if she's a, well, _he,_ we name him something badass for a first name," Edward says, continuing to scroll down the list of baby names on his laptop. "We'll keep it classy with Charles for a middle name, but . . . _Axel_ for a first name."

I laugh because I don't think he's serious, but his solemn expression tells me otherwise. "Oh my god, you're kidding, right?"

He finally smirks and I praise the Lord. "I also saw Silas."

"No! And besides, she's a _she._ A mother knows these things . . . according to your mom. I'm supposed to trust my gut, so I won't waiver."

"My mother didn't know she was pregnant with Alice until like, eight weeks. You cannot trust a word she says."

"Fine. Bet me." I grin mischievously.

He narrows his eyes. "What are your terms?"

"While you're on paternity leave and nights you're not on call, you have to change her diaper if I'm right and she's a girl — no ifs ands or buts. If I'm wrong, I get every poppy diaper no matter what. You're still doing pee changes when you're home."

"I'm not one-hundred percent sure either way and I have been leaning toward girl, but I'll take your bet," he says, holding his hand out. As I shake it he adds, " _And_ if I'm right, I get to pick his first name."

I squeeze his hand and gasp. "I get to veto!"

"You get five vetoes, so chose wisely."

I'm almost ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure I'm right, but if I'm wrong, Edward might pick a name I hate and—actually, no. No, he won't. Edward would never be so cruel to name our child something I dislike, so it's really a no-brainer.

"Deal," I say, shaking again as he smirks.

"You'll really let me pick?"

"I'm not saying I won't give suggestions, but it'll be your decision in the end," I agree.

He leans closer, pressing his lips to mine for a few moments. "I really don't mind dirty diapers, you know? I deal with bodily fluids on a daily basis, so it's no skin off my back."

"Yes, but _I'll_ get to sleep."

He rubs his nose against mine, smiling. "I already planned on devoting every moment of my time at home to helping you."

"Because you're wonderful," I giggle, pecking his lips once more as the thought of the video suddenly crosses my mind. "Hey, can I ask you an odd favor?"

"Anything, sweet girl."

"I, uh . . . well, I kind of did this thing today." I'm not entirely sure how to explain the video without making it seem a bit morbid. "I made a video — of myself. It's weird, I guess. I just wanted to . . . leave something for the baby. You know, something for her to remember me by."

His brow creases. "What are doing in the video?"

"Just sitting on the bed. It's like a short video diary. I meant for it to be longer, but I kind of started crying and I didn't want it to be sad. I wanted it to be a nice thing he or she can watch after I'm . . . gone."

"You mean if you die?" he asks, and I worry he's upset. The lighthearted smile is gone from his face and his express has fallen. It's like I've hurt him — sadness, not anger.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I know it sounds bad, but this fear is getting to me. I had all but accepted death a couple of years ago, but now I'm terrified again. I guess it's a little worse than how I explained it earlier, huh?"

"I understand why you'd want to leave something like that for her, but I wish I could have been there for you. Did you not feel like you could tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you, and I know how you feel about thinking about . . . my death."

"It tears me apart," he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer to his chest. "But it _is_ something we have to talk about. It's our reality."

"Sadly," I agree.

"I think a video diary is a good idea, actually, but I don't think you should do it alone. I think if you want to leave something happy, we should show the happy. We should show the love that created him or her. I mean, not the _actual_ love."

I about snort as he laughs. "The PG-rated love. We don't want to scar the poor child."

"Exactly." He nods. "What about a little video every week? And if you want to share something in particular, we can turn the camera on anytime."

"The idea doesn't bother you? It doesn't . . . leave you unsettled to think that if our child sees the videos, I'll be dead?"

"A little, but who's to say we won't show them to it together some day? We'll play them at her graduation party or something, so let's make at least one embarrassing one."

I smile as relief washes over me. With his ideas and knowing he'll be by my side, it doesn't seem as morbid. I won't be some distant, faded memory. I'll be right there, next to her daddy — who hopefully she'll be right beside on the other end of the screen.

"You know I love you more than anything, don't you?" I ask.

"And I love you," he says, kissing me softly. "What should our first video be about?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm rubbing in the fact that you think she's a he."

"I just took the bet to be nice," he laughs, holding me tightly.


	6. Chapter 6

"At first she was just a bright spot in my day or week or month," Edward says, holding my hand as we sit on the bed together and look into the camera of my laptop. "I felt guilty that I was so happy to see her, considering the circumstances. I found something I didn't know I was looking for when I met her and I couldn't get enough. I even made sure I had nothing scheduled after her appointments so I could spend more time with her. I was . . . well, from the first moment I was hers."

"Don't be corny." I smirk, nudging his shoulder.

"She was a beacon of light in a hurricane. It was as if her smile made the sun rise each day. She—"

"Shut up," I laugh. "Either tell your side of the story or let me go. We're running short on time."

"We've got fifteen minutes until we should leave. Twenty until we must," he says, glancing at his watch. "I'm good on time."

"Resume," I sigh.

"Thank you," he says, winking. "Where was I? Oh yes, she changed my life. Around the time I met her I was starting to question some of my choices. I thought I was prepared for my specialty, but it often felt like I was fighting a losing battle. Just before I walked into the room she was in for the first time, I was talking to my dad, your grandfather, about taking a break. Looking into your mom's eyes for the first time lit a fire inside of me. I was in awe of her strength and bravery. She was so full of life and ready to fight for it. She once told me, 'this isn't how my story ends,' and she was right."

He runs his hand through his hair, which he does whenever he's uncomfortable or nervous. This is hard, and we've been doing it for weeks. It's also wonderful, too. His words to our baby have shown me his side of our little love story, and it feels so incredible to hear his thoughts and feelings in a way I haven't before. I'm remembering how I felt and I'm smiling as tears fill my eyes.

"I couldn't help but love her," he says as I squeeze his hand. "I didn't realize I had fallen in love with her at first, but it hit me just before Christmas time a little over two years ago. She had pneumonia at the time, so she was in the hospital during the weeks leading up to the holiday. I spent every single free moment I had with her. I found myself coming in early and staying late, just to talk to her. I _had_ to be there for her. I knew I was meant to be. That illness . . . it took a lot out of her, but she asked me for one thing — one more Christmas. I decided right then that I would make it as magical as possible."

"And you did," I say, wiping my tears. "And you've made me cry!"

He dips his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'm sorry, beautiful, but to be fair, you cry over everything."

I roll my eyes, but it's completely true. Hormones; they're a bitch. I literally cried this morning because my bagel was so _absolutely,_ perfectly toasted. An actual tear rolled down my cheek, and I have to live with the fact that a bagel made me cry for the rest of my life. The craving had been so strong that Edward had to hop out of bed at the ungodly hour of five-thirty in the morning on his day off and drive to Panera Bread to get me an Asiago bagel. He even did it with a smile on his face for some reason.

It was perfection, and I mean, I was _really_ craving it.

"We should probably leave soon," I say, kissing his cheek. "I'm about to be proven right, sweet thing."

I smirk at my laptop as Edward chuckles, leaning closer to it. "We'll see you soon, little one. We love you."

"Love you," I say, rubbing my bump as he turns off the video camera and closes my laptop.

Edward gently tosses it further down the bed and then holds his hands out for mine, helping me scoot to the edge of the bed to get off. He pulls me into his arms, kissing me as I stand on my toes.

"Let's go find out if she's actually a she," he says, kissing me softly once more before kneeling and kissing my belly.

My bump's a little bigger, but the kid's only the size of an avocado so I'm not all baby bump yet. It's there, though, and only growing more. Within the next few weeks, I'll start to feel her move and I _cannot_ wait.

. . . . .

Kate saves the best part of our appointment for last. I've happily endured all of her torture for this, and I'm shaking with excitement as I hold Edward's hand tightly.

"Thank you so much for doing this yourself, Kate" I say, smiling nervously. "With the whole, chemo and radiation thing, I'm a little nervous. I hope she's okay."

"I'm sure she's fine." Kate smiles, shaking the gel and patting my arm. "And I'm more than happy to do this for you. We'll see what you're having first and then I'll check _hopefully_ her out. Edward, would you like to do the honor of telling her the sex?"

My husband's eyes widen and he quickly nods. "I'd love to. You get to feel her first, so it's only fair I have this."

I giggle as Kate squeezes the gel on my bump and starts moving the transducer over it. "It's fine, but if you're wrong, I'm going to laugh."

"I know how to read an ultrasound, sweet girl." He smirks.

"But I'll take pleasure in correcting him if he doesn't," Kate says, laughing as she fiddles with the machine.

I hear a beautiful heart beat fill the room and it's easily become my favorite sound. I close my eyes for a moment, smiling as I listen to the whoosh. She adjusts the transducer and my toes wiggle in anticipation.

"I know I'm not wrong," I say, trying to sound convincing.

Edward keeps his eyes on me, brushing his fingers through my hair as he smiles. "I'm sure you're not."

"Okay, this shouldn't be hard," Kate says, drawing our attention. "Go ahead and look, Edward."

Instead of looking with him, I watch his expression. The screen lights up his features in the dim room and he lifts his head, narrowing his eyes slightly. It doesn't take long for a grin to spread across his face.

"I am going to be changing a _lot_ of diapers in the middle of the night," he says, smiling down at me and quickly capturing my lips.

 _Girl._

"A girl?" I ask, pushing his face away. "Really?"

He nods. "We're having a baby girl. A little you."

I'm stunned and he kisses me again. It sinks in slowly and I see flashes of pink in my mind. I hear sweet lullabies and envision myself holding a little bundle in the middle of the night. It's the most wondrous thought and soon will become a reality. Also, I was _right._

"I win!" I laugh.

"Fair enough, but you really didn't win all that much," Edward says, rolling his eyes.

"We'll see how much I won at two in the morning," I tease.

"Ah, he'll be fine," Kate says, smiling. "I'm so happy for you both."

"Thank you. So, is she okay?"

Our baby girl is absolutely perfect in every way — her heart, her brain, everything's as it should be. I'm still in a little bit of shock, but I'm over the moon and Edward is grinning just as much. I barely feel the late February chill as we walk to the car — too taken by the photos in my hands. Kate did a 3D ultrasound as well, so I have a beautiful picture of our daughter with her little mouth open.

I'm in awe of how . . . _real_ she is.

"I can't believe it," I say, absentmindedly buckling my seatbelt as I look at our girl. "Look at her little mouth!"

"She's gorgeous," he says, kissing my temple. "Just like her momma."

"I'm nowhere near as adorable as she is," I laugh. "I'm _so_ relieved she's okay. This is the best day of my life, baby."

He nods. "Mine too, and I'm so thankful that won't be on our minds anymore. You're healthy, she's healthy, and I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"I love you so much," I say, taking his hand over the center console as he pulls out of the parking garage.

"I love you, too. You wanted to go to Target, didn't you?"

"Yes! I need girly things. I must satisfy the urge."

He chuckles. "This should be fun. Good thing the trunk's empty, huh?"

Yes, very good thing.

. . . . .

I buy booties and tights and bows and onesies. I even throw in a few pink bottles and pacifiers, too. I don't seem to care that I still have another twenty-four weeks until I'm due to shop, and I just keep adding adorable baby girl things to the cart.

I'm in baby heaven.

Edward's just standing near the cart as I toss things in, hand on his chin and suppressing laughter. I'm a woman on a friggin' mission for the cutest things imaginable and he's indulging me.

"Yeah, I'm glad we have a couple extra bedrooms for storage," I say, laying four, stacked pink buckets in the cart. I mean, I need pink buckets to store pink clothes in, after all.

God, I'm really on a pink kick.

"I feel like we're going to have a lot of things she'll never wear," he says, eyeing the almost full cart.

"Donations," I sing, smiling sheepishly. "Let me just look at the blankets and then you can drag me out of this section, okay? We still need to get party decorations and snacks, so don't let me forget."

"Blankets, decorations, snacks." He nods. "Got it."

I'm ashamed to say how many blankets my uterus makes me add to the cart, but Edward doesn't bat an eyelash. He _does_ keep me from making one more round, but only because his family is coming over for dinner at seven, so we need to get home and set up.

I get cute pink plates and decorations and then we hurry through the grocery section before checking out. The back of his Volvo is filled with bags, and I can't wait to get home and add my stash to everything I've already bought. This is just the beginning and thoughts of getting our home ready for our child fill my mind. I'm not sure why this is so exciting to me, but it is. Again, damn hormones.

Our final stop before going home is the bakery. I placed an order for two dozen cupcakes a while back — half decorated for a boy and half for a girl. I knew I'd want to tell the family right away, so I wanted to be prepared. Yes, it _does_ leave us with a dozen extra blue-themed cupcakes, but I'm pretty sure my stomach can't tell the difference and cake freezes well.

By the time we get home, we have less than two hours before everyone gets here for dinner. I cleaned the house yesterday, so aside from decorating, all I need to do is cook dinner. The chicken's been marinating since last night, so part of the work is already done. Once I get that in the oven, Edward offers to take over making the sides so I can start decorating. I have to promise to leave the banner for him to hang, but I've got the rest handled.

I considered a few different ways to share the news, but covering the house in pink seems the best. I mean, they'll walk in and _bam,_ pink galore. Straight to the wonderful point that I was right. There's pink confetti in vases, pink flowers scattered around, a pink tablecloth over the dining room table, pink plastic champagne glasses, and pink—yeah, you get the point. Pepto bismol exploded in a chevron pattern all over my house.

I may have gone too far.

"Mom just texted that they're fifteen minutes away," Edward says, walking into the dining room as I hold the banner for him to hang. "Just under the archway?"

"Yes, please. How's dinner looking?"

"Delicious," he says, standing on his toes and easily taping one side to the wall. "Mom tried to get me to tell her what we're having."

"I got a text earlier, too," I giggle.

"Is it even?"

I stand back, inspecting his work before nodding. "Looks good to me. I'm going to go change really quick, all right? The chicken should need a half hour more, so we're good on timing."

"Wonderful," he says, meeting me in the doorway and putting his arm around my waist. "Have I told you how absolutely stunning you are today?"

"I suppose not in so many words." I smile. "Thank you, handsome."

"Thank _you,_ " he says, laying a soft kiss on my neck. "Go change. I'll handle things down here."

"Don't let them in the house until I'm downstairs."

He laughs, nodding. "I'll guard the door."

I make quick work of freshening up and changing into a nicer shirt. I keep my yoga leggings, which I've deemed everyday attire because stretchy waist. Seriously, bless these things. They go well with everything. I'm done with plenty of time to spare, so I check on the chicken and lay out the snacks before the doorbell finally rings. I almost run to the door and turn my camera on before letting Edward open it.

"It's a girl!" I yell as the door opens wide and Carlisle's, Esme's, and Alice's eyes land on the decor. Rose, Emmett, Seth, and Nana Cullen are close behind them, walking up the path as Esme screams.

"I knew it!" She rushes in, enveloping me in a gentle hug. "Oh, I'm so happy for you! For both of you!"

She pulls Edward into the hug before we're broken up for more hugs and congratulations. Nana Cullen is the last one to embrace me and actually _smiles_ while doing so. "Cullen girls are smart," she says. "Alice clearly smoked entirely too much of that _marijuana_ as a teenager, so she doesn't count, but we are. You're lucky."

I choke as she points her finger at my sister-in-law, who just rolls her eyes. "Thanks," I say, and add in a whisper, "I think."

"I take it everything looked good?" Carlisle asks as we make our way into the living room and wait for dinner to be ready.

"She's absolutely perfect," Edward says, nodding with a proud grin.

"I left the envelopes on the dining room table," I say. "Would you grab them for me? We've got pictures for everyone."

Esme grins and sits down beside me with a glass of wine in hand, thanks to Alice. Since Nana Cullen is attending, I pulled out the best bottle we have for my mother and sister-in-law. They'll need it. "Did you do that 3D kind?" she asks.

I nod. "Yes! Just wait until you see the picture; it's so adorable."

Edward hurries back in the room, passing out the envelopes according to name. We had a copy made for everyone, so I put them in little, "it's a girl!" cards. The room is filled with oohs and awws as they each look their the sonograms photos. I look at Esme's as she flips through, once again in awe of the little girl inside of me.

"She's beautiful," Esme says, tearing up as she puts her arm around me. "We are _so_ blessed to have you, Bella. I am so proud of how far you've come and how hard you've fought. Carlisle, I do believe we hit the daughter-in-law jackpot with our girls."

Carlisle nods, patting Rosalie's hand from the sofa across from us. "Yes, we have. I couldn't be more proud of our wonderful family, and I'm so glad it includes you both now. Boys, good job."

Emmett gives him a thumbs up from the other side of Rosalie and Edward just chuckles softly.

"What are you naming the baby?" Nana asks. "You're not going to chose one of those made-up ones, are you?"

"Wasn't planning on it, but now that you mention it, the possibilities are endless," I say with a light smirk. "We were talking about naming her after my mother, but what if we combine our moms' names? Esme and Renee. Esre? Renes? Esne? Oh! Renesmee! Just smoosh them both together."

"Definitely going on the list," Edward says as Nana's expression is one of horror.

"I love it," Esme says.

"We can call her Nessie," Emmett says, grinning. "Like after the Loch Ness monster."

"Oh, now you're all just screwing with me," she finally says, rolling her eyes as we laugh. "That's a terrible name."

"I like unique names," Alice says. "Maybe not, you know, _that_ unique, but you want something creative — something cool and cute. Please god, don't be like Mom and Dad. Emmett got the best name and it's still fairly lame."

"Mary Alice is a beautiful, but you refuse to use it," Esme says.

"And Edward and Emmett were named after their grandfathers," Nana says. "My Edward was an incredible man and it meant a lot to me that Esme and Carlisle chose it. It would also be nice if my name could live on, you know." She cocks her brow, looking directly at me.

Lilliana _is_ a beautiful name, but I'm not sure it fits our daughter. "It's definitely on the long, long list," I say. "I think we might have to meet her before picking a name, though."

"Fair enough," she says as the timer on my phone goes off.

Alice heads into the kitchen with me to help pull dinner out as everyone else continues to discuss the new addition to our family. Little Seth isn't far behind, wanting to help us, so she puts him on the counter and let's him help put the sides into bowls as I add finishing touches.

It all turns out so delicious and we tell everyone it was all Seth's help, which puts a huge grin on his adorable face. He sits on my lap as we ate and asks all about his new cousin. He even makes me promise he can hold her and I happily agree. This family is more than I ever could have dreamed of, and I'm so thankful for my second chance at life.

There are so many good things ahead of us and as the conversations flow around me, it hits me that I'm not afraid of what the future holds. My life has been filled with so many downs, but this up . . . it outweighs all the bad. I have a family, I'm loved, I'm healthy, and I'm going to have a daughter.

What more could a girl ask for?


	7. Chapter 7

"Yep, I needed this," I moan, resting my head back with a smile. "Oh, right there. _Yes._ "

I hear laughter, but I give zero fucks as I chant God's name. "Jesus, are you coming?" Alice asks.

Rose snorts from beside me as the lovely manicurist seems to find the perfect places on my sore, swollen feet to massage. This is orgasmic. I mean, not near as good as Edward, but it feels _so_ damn good and I'm literally moaning as she works her magic.

"You can't possibly understand how good this feels," I say, lifting the cucumber from over my and looking over at Alice. "My feet feel like giant balloons and I'm not saying Edward sucks at foot massages, but he's certainly not this good. Judge away."

At twenty-five weeks I'm far from as big as I'll get, but I feel massive. I honestly do not believe my feet can handle much more and it hurts like a motherfucker when my sweetpea stretches and kicks. She's not even that big yet, but I feel like I'm lugging around a watermelon.

Speaking of which . . . "Where did my jolly ranchers go?" I ask, looking around my chair for the bag I brought with me. Yes, I brought candy to a spa. It's the tiny human's fault.

"I stole some," Esme says and passes it back to me. "Only the grape, I promise."

I pluck the other cucumber from my eyes and dig in, grabbing the first watermelon one I can find. I go through different craving phases like crazy and the latest one has probably been the strongest. I have jolly ranchers everywhere — my car, my purse, in my wallet, pretty much every jacket I own, and in conveniently placed bowls around the house.

"You can have as many as you want," I say, grinning before popping it in my mouth.

I keep moaning as the most incredible woman in the world works on my feet, but the conversation turns to our little shopping trip before this. We crossed off most of the items on my list for the nursery, so Edward and I are going to start putting it together this weekend. He painted over the course of a few days — between work and the weekend on-call — and I can't wait to see it come together. After weeks upon weeks of shopping, it's about time I get to decorate my baby girl's nursery.

"All this adorable girl stuff makes me want another baby," Rose says, sighing. "I don't miss diapers or midnight feedings, but I miss the smell and the soft skin, the tiny clothes and socks, and the sweet yawns. Seth just burps as loud as he can, trying to compete with Emmett. I just . . . I'm going to need to borrow this little girl."

"No, no, not until Nona gets her time," Esme says. "I call dibs on first sleep over. Oh, and holding her first."

"What? You can't call dibs!" Alice says. "It's first come, first serve, right, Bella?"

"I . . . I'm sorry, Alice," I say softly, cringing. "And to you, Esme. If you think I'm letting her go you're friggin' crazy." I laugh as Esme rolls her eyes. Of course she gets to hold the baby before anyone else in the family, but she may have to wait a while.

I'm so excited to meet this little girl, but the ultrasounds will have to suffice for the next fifteen-ish weeks. In the meantime there are a hell of a lot of things to do and the nursery is just barely the beginning. Edward and I have classes to take, things to learn, and more clothes to wash than either of us have probably ever owned. I'm more than halfway along and in a few short months everything will change, so I'm going to try to enjoy this pregnancy and the time Edward and I have left alone.

I can't imagine ever wanting to leave her, but it's nice to know I have three excellent babysitters on hand.

. . . . .

The long outing leaves me tired by the time I get home at five. Edward texts that he'll be home late, so I decide to microwave leftovers and crawl into bed early. It doesn't take long before I pass out cold with my hand in a bag of potato chips — which isn't actually the first time, to be honest.

Edward still isn't home by the time I wake up a little after nine, and there's a message on my phone explaining why. He's losing a patient. He won't leave someone who has little time left, especially when it's someone he's grown close to. He says he'll be home by morning, and though I miss him, I understand he has to do this. It's who he is and I wouldn't change a thing, but I do kind of wish he were right now.

I wake up with a tickle in my throat and an overall ache through my body. My sweetpea might kick and make my lower back hurt, but I don't think she can cause this kind of pain.

I drink a little water and try to move around, but it doesn't really help so I start looking through the medicine cabinet. I don't want to worry Edward, so I decide to text Carlisle instead. You know, to see if he's awake. My phone quickly shows the three dots I hoped for, so I call him before he can reply.

"Are you awake? I'm sorry if I woke you up," I say, _really_ hoping I'm not bothering him.

He chuckles softly. "I'm catching up on some paperwork, but it can wait. Are you okay?"

"I'm . . . not, not okay. Kind of. Can I take cold medicine?"

"That depends on your symptoms. What's wrong?"

The tickle in my throat stirs a cough and I try to mutter out I'm fine until I can catch my breath. I coughed some earlier today, but I just thought it was the brisk air.

"That's one," I say, clearing my throat. "I'm sorry."

"When did this start?"

"I took a nap when I got home and just woke up feeling cruddy. My head and body ache, and my throat kind of hurts. I've been coughing some, but I didn't feel bad earlier."

"I'm going to assume you're calling me because Edward's at work and you don't want to bother him, so I'm going to come over."

I shake my head to myself. "No, I'm really not super sick or anything. Edward will be home by morning and I don't _need_ to take anything, so I'll be fine."

"I really wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I could help you and I didn't," he says as I hear shuffling in the background. "I'm sure Esme would want to come, if you'd like."

"Oh no. And you don't need to come either. I'm fine and it's late."

"And I'm wide awake. Please, Bella. I promise I'll bring medicine and make it quick. And not tell Edward."

I narrow my eyes as I realize he seems to be blackmailing. "You'd tell Edward?"

"He'd hate me if I didn't tell him you were ill and something terrible happened. Please, Bella?"

"That was really low."

He laughs softly. "Kind of, but I got my point across, didn't I? And it is true."

"Fine, you can come over, but don't bother Esme. She'll want to come and she doesn't need to."

"I won't bother her. I'll see you shortly, sweetheart."

"Bye."

I hang up my phone and toss it on the bed, sighing as I lean back. The thing about narrowly escaping death by cancer is that any time you're sick it's kind of terrifying. That lingering question comes front and center in your mind — is it back? It's probably not, but it's always going to be a concern. And apparently it's even more of a concern when you're a doctor and it's your loved one.

While I wait for Carlisle I bring a pillow and my laptop downstairs to the living room and get settled on the couch. I turn the TV on and resume an episode of a show on Netflix. I'm cold but my feet are on fire, so I wrap a fluffy blanket around my shoulders and close my eyes for just a moment.

Unsurprisingly, that moment ends with Carlisle saying my name.

"Either you hit every green light and the highway was empty or you sped," I say, sitting up as he takes a seat by my feet, placing his bag on the coffee table.

"Fairly light traffic, actually. How do you feel?" He reaches out and presses his hand to my forehead. "A little warm. Do you know if you have a fever?"

"No. I haven't checked."

He nods and opens his bag, pulling out a thermometer and his stethoscope. Even though I'm quite sure I'm fine, I indulge him and let him look me over. It doesn't take long until he's satisfied that I'm not currently dying, but I do have a fever and some wheezing.

The beginning of a cold, most likely.

"You can take acetaminophen for your fever and aches, but stay away from multi-symptom cold medicines," he says putting his things away. "They're not necessarily unsafe, but I'm sure you'd rather be cautious. You can use a nasal spray to help with the congestion if it becomes bothersome, but for the most part you'll just have to rest and take it easy until the cold clears up on its own, I'm afraid."

I sniffle, nodding. "And the cough?"

"That we need to keep a close eye on." His brow creases with concern and I know what he's thinking without saying it. "If you start experiencing any shortness of breath or problems breathing, you need to go to the emergency room of course, but right now I'm not hearing anything _too_ concerning. Hopefully this will clear up quickly, but we'll be on top of it just in case."

I bite my lip, softly rubbing my bump as I wonder if what I'm about say will sound stupid, but to be fair, Carlisle's answered far crazier questions. "Me having a cold won't hurt her, will it?"

He shakes his head, smiling as he pats my hand. "No, she'll be perfectly fine. If this gets worse, we'll treat you appropriately but it shouldn't hurt her in the least. Just make sure to stay hydrated and _rest._ I'm serious about that."

"Yes, Dad," I tease as a cough tickles my throat.

He leaves the living room for the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, settling back in beside me on the couch. His attention turns to my bump as I take the Tylenol. Just like Esme and the rest of the family, he's so excited for a granddaughter. They've all given me so much over the past few years and I've never had much to offer them in return, but the baby . . . she's the one thing their money can't buy; love is priceless and the most beautiful part of life. She'll be half me and half Edward and the second Cullen grandchild.

"How are you, dear?" he asks, lightly touching my bump as he smiles.

"Aside from the cold I'm wonderful. Esme treated us to a spa day after shopping and I enjoyed every moment. I'm crazily eager to start folding baby clothes," I laugh softly.

"I think that happens to some woman; it's called nesting."

I nod, smiling. "Yep, and I still have fifteen more weeks to go. I feel really bad for your son's credit card."

"I think he'll be fine," he chuckles gently before sighing. "I'm glad you're doing well, sweetheart. You know, I'm often reminded of how it felt when you first came into our family. It was a sudden love — we adored you, of course — but there was the reality of how ill you were. To see you here, years later, smiling and pregnant with my granddaughter brings me so much joy. I'm still in awe of your strength and bravery."

He's making me blush and I'm speechless for a few moments as tears burn my eyes. "That means to the world to me, Carlisle."

I reach out for him and he hugs me gently, kissing my forehead. "And you mean the world to us. Now, get some rest. I'm going to run to the drug store for the nasal spray and a few necessities. Can I get you anything?"

I shake my head, moving my legs so he can stand up. "No, thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine in a few days, really."

"Yes, I'm sure you will," he says, grabbing his light coat off the chair. "You really do need rest, Bella."

I smirk and repeat, "Yes, Dad."

He just smiles and it makes me so happy to know my daughter will have such an incredible family to support her. If something _did_ happen to me, they would help Edward in every way possible and our little girl will still have a good life — a part will be missing, but she'll never be alone in this world.

. . . . .

Rest isn't helping much and I only feel worse once Edward gets home in the early morning hours and Carlisle heads home. He'd slept in the chair as I took up the couch, and when the coughing made me sick, he soothed my crying and took care of it. It's quite obvious where my husband gets his bedside manor.

Edward quickly takes me upstairs to our bedroom, carrying me even after working for twenty-four grueling hours because I can't steady myself on my feet. He helps me into bed and then joins me, stretching out beside me.

"I'm a little worried," he confesses, creasing his brow as he watches me. "You are absolutely gorgeous, but right now you look like you feel horrible, sweet girl. It scares me."

"That bad, huh?" I smile weakly, feeling the ache all over my body. "I got the flu shot, didn't I?"

He nods. "Yes, but it's not always perfectly effective. You might have stand the vaccine doesn't fight. And I definitely think that's what you have."

"And that worries you?"

He shifts beside me, wrapping me tightly in his arms. "I can't stand to see you sick, love. It always terrifies me and always will, but I'm sure you'll be all right. The best thing for you right now is water and rest. We'll see how you feel later."

I nod and he helps me sit up. I chug down a good portion of the water bottle on my table and then snuggle back in under the covers with him, letting myself relax in his arms. I turn so my ear is on his chest and hear the sound of his heart. The soft, rhythmic beat almost relaxes me before a cough tears through my chest and I accidently hit him in the chin with my head.

"Sorry." I cringe, pulling back and looking up. "Did you bite your tongue?"

He nods and says, "No blood no foul. I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry."

He pulls me back against him as I clear my throat. The cough subsided, thankfully, so I try to find that spot on his chest against and relax. "That was totally my fault because I was looking at your ass."

"Bullcrap, you can't see it."

"Exactly, so I was trying to," he laughs. "I love you, gorgeous."

Rolling my eyes with a small smile, I say, "And I love you more."

He laughs harder and it shakes his body, as well as mine. "That's simply not possible. You're delirious. Get some rest."

"Stop telling me that. You're just like your dad, and speaking of which before I get some _rest,_ what happened last night?"

"He's at peace," he sighs. "He was older and he said he was ready, but I still needed to be there. He fought incredibly hard."

"I'm sorry, handsome."

He smiles sadly. "Thank you, but I'm all right. I did what I could for him."

"I'm sure you did. I know that from experience." I lift up, kissing him as he cups my cheek — the facial one.

"Thank you for fighting so hard to stay with me," he says sincerely. "Now—"

"Get some fucking rest," I mutter, falling back down against his chest.

. . . . .

Unsurprisingly, the rest thing really doesn't help, probably because I barely get any, and Edward's worry grows more and more. The cough is unrelenting and clearly doesn't make my girl too happy either. She won't stop kicking up a storm. It's late evening and Edward's getting me soup, which hopefully I can keep down. Lunch didn't go so well, so I need this if I want to avoid a certain large, sterile building.

And I really want that.

While Edward's downstairs making my dinner, he told me to stay in bed, but I decide not to listen to him. I can smell his mom's chicken noodle soup and wonder if she dropped some off today. By the time I get into the kitchen, I know she definitely did and watching Edward stir the pot only confirms it.

"You're a terrible listener," he says, shaking his head as I slid onto a bar stool.

"We're going on six months of marriage here soon. You should know me better by now."

He turns his head and smiles. "Oh, I do, but I did forget how funny you sound when your congested. It's so adorable and pitiful."

I lift my hand, letting one finger in the middle pop up. "I hope I get you sick."

"Nah, immune system of steel. So, do you want to eat down here? I _think_ this is done."

"Your mom pre-cooks it," I giggle. "We put it on the stove just to heat it up."

"Awesome, I'm not poisoning you then."

He takes bowls from the cabinet and fills them up, bringing them over to me at the island. Before sitting down he gets out another bottle of water for me, silently indicating I need to drink it all.

"Yeah, I know," I say, grabbing my spoon and stirring the homemade soup. "I bet this tastes delicious; you know, if I could taste it."

"I'm sure it does, but don't try yet. Look a bit hot."

"You think?" I giggle, leaning down and blowing on the spoonful. "I really appreciate this, Edward."

"You're welcome, sweet girl. Let's hope you can keep it down."

It doesn't take long for it to be apparent that I can't. I let it cool off and manage to get a few spoonfuls of broth and noodles down, but the queasiness settles in and I quickly give up and try to dash off the stool, covering my mouth.

"Whoa," Edward says, grabbing as I almost take a tumble.

Sadly, my pristine kitchen is soiled before he can get me into the bathroom and it doesn't stop then. It's absolutely awful and painful, and I'm so dizzy as I kneel in front of the toilet with Edward holding my hair, just like old times.

A get a brief reprieve and sigh, shaking my head. "I'm not okay."

He dabs a tissue at my mouth, looking terrifyingly concerned. "I think it's time to get another opinion," he says. "We need to go to the ER."

"I know," I whisper with tears. I _hate_ this, but I'd myself so much more if something serious is wrong and I was too stubborn to get help. When my stomach finally settles, he helps me to my feet and I check my balance. I feel all right, so with his arm around me, I follow him out of the bathroom. The first few steps go well enough, but then the dizziness hits hard once again and I blink, trying to focus on what's in front of me. Black dots begin clouding my eyes, making my line of sight smaller and smaller until . . .

"Bella!"


	8. Chapter 8

"Bella love, please."

Through the haze I hear his voice calling my name and it takes all the strength I have just to open my eyes. A wave of nausea hits me, making me groan as I make out Edward's face above mine. I'm on something soft and look around, realizing I'm in the living room on the couch.

"Edward," I mumble softly as he sighs in relief and caresses my cheek.

"Thank God," he says. "How do you feeling?"

I scrunch my nose, closing my eyes as I shake my head. "Really not okay," I admit before a cough explodes from deep within my chest and he helps me sit up. It seems like an eternity before it settles and I can actually take a breath in, but I can't seem to catch it.

"It would take an ambulance just as long to get here and take you to the ER as it would for me to drive," he says, suddenly sliding his arms under my legs and around my back. I start to protest, but his expression stops me in my tracks.

He's scared.

I've only seen that expression a handful of times and each was during a terrifying moment in our lives — like me almost dying on a few occasions. As much as I hate the idea of the emergency room, I know it's for the best.

"I love you," I say as he walks with me to the garage door, grabbing his wallet and keys from the table by the door.

"I love you too, sweet girl. It's going to be okay." He presses a kiss to my temple in an attempt to soothe me before opening the door and walking around his car.

He almost sounds convincing, but that expression speaks way louder.

He doesn't drive fast or crazy to get to the hospital. Between calling Carlisle and group texting Garrett and Kate at red lights, he drives carefully and even holds my hand, trying over and over to make that, "it's going to be okay," a little more believable. I can see the wheels turning in his head, probably going through diagnoses and complications, ruling out things and convincing himself this isn't as serious as it seems. His face relaxes a little by the time we get to the ER and even more so when someone steps forward with a wheelchair from the ambulance entrance when we come to a stop.

Edward quickly gets out, running around to my side and opening the door. The woman comes closer, introducing herself as Tara as Edward helps me out, barely letting my feet touch the ground as he settles me in the wheelchair.

"Is my father down here yet?" Edward asks, pushing me in as the woman directs us.

"He should be soon," she says. "We're going to trauma two. He told us to be prepared."

I look back, noticing a slight curl in Edward's lips. I guess it does pay to know important people. "Good. Thank you, Tara. Who's here?"

"Dr. Grant is coming in," she says, rolling me into an oddly terrifying room that looks much more like an operating room. "I'm going to put you on the monitor, take your vitals, and start an IV, Mrs. Cullen. I'm going to need you to change as well." She says it sadly and holds up the unflattering blue gown.

Edward helps me onto the gurney, doing most of the clothes changing, and then she starts her bit of torture. I'm properly wired up once she's done and get a lovely bag of fluids I'm sure I need just as the doctor comes in. She and Edward relay information before he orders tests and speaks to Edward, not so much me.

"I want an x-ray to confirm, but I'm sure it's pneumonia so we'll start her on antibiotics and run lab tests," he says.

"No x-ray," I say, making him actually look at me for the first time. "I'm obviously, you know, twenty-five weeks pregnant."

"The benefit outweighs—"

"No, it doesn't," I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "To look for my cancer returning it does, but not for something you already know. Something you decided before even talking to me or examining me."

"The cough and your oxygen sats could be sign of cancer, so we can call it that," he says, almost smugly.

I think about using a slew of curse words and wish I had the strength to reach out and punch him, but Edward goes first and ends it before I can.

"Get the fuck out," he says, pointing toward the door just as Carlisle enters it. "You're not going to terrify my wife into a test. How dare you use cancer to scare her into it instead of explaining why you think it's for the best. Do you do that to all of your patients?"

"What's going on here?" Carlisle asks. "Dr. Grant, are you leaving?"

"Sir, your daughter-in-law needs a chest x-ray to confirm pneumonia and she's refusing. I understand she's pregnant, but if she hasn't been undergoing regular screening, for all we know she could have a recurrence."

Carlisle cock his head, creasing his brow "Did you ask her if she's had regular screenings?"

"No, but as she pointed out, she's preg—"

"Yes, and it's high risk. Her obstetrician and oncologist will be here shortly, so they'll decide what's best. An x-ray won't change course of treatment as of right now, so Bella can decide what she wants to do. In the meantime, I think you can leave the room. I'll take over."

The middle aged man is absolutely pissed and I love it. He stalks out of the room and if it could, smoke would be fuming out of his ears. Carlisle shakes his head, walking the rest of the way into the room and pulling his stethoscope from his pocket. "I apologize, Bella," he says. "How are you feeling?"

One flick of my eyes tells him all he needs, so he starts listening to my chest, instructing me to breathe. I'm pretty sure he can't legally treat me, but I kind of prefer it — especially to Dr. Douchebag. Just like Edward, he's so gentle and just all around calming. Once he finishes listening to my back, I sink against the bed and somewhat relax as he moves on to my heart.

"It's not really cancer again, is it?" I ask.

Edward scoffs. "No! He was just being a dick. You just had scans a few weeks ago. You're absolutely cancer free. Dad, would you agree it's pneumonia?"

"Yes," he says. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We're going to take care of you, I promise."

I nod, trying to plaster a fake smile. I'm sure he doesn't buy it, but he leans down and kisses the top of my head anyway. After looking over my vitals again, he orders lab tests, medicines, and even tethers me to a nasal cannula.

"I do think if something changes we should consider an x-ray," he says once all is settled down and Tara does everything he asks. "Right now I'm comfortable treating you with antibiotics, but we'll see what Garrett and Kate say, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good," I say. "How long do you think I'll be here?"

He and Edward share a look before he says, "I'm afraid it may be a few days. Your lungs need to clear up, which will help your oxygen sats. Hopefully with the right dosage and type of antibiotics we can treat you quickly, but we'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with once we identify the bacteria."

"Days?" I actually pout as I realize I already miss my bed. If I hadn't gotten up and had soup downstairs, maybe none of this would be happening. Obviously the lesson is stay in bed forever.

He pats my hand, smiling as he pulls the stool over with his foot and sits down. "It'll be just fine, dear. Also, Esme is stopping by your house and packing a bag for you. Is there anything in particular you want?"

I rattle off a few books and my laptop, but I highly doubt I'll have the energy to use them anytime soon. I just feel so drained and want to sleep. Tara gave me something for the nausea and it helped, but I think it's making me drowsy.

. . . . .

It feels like I only drift off for a minute, but by the time I wake up, Garrett is in the room and somehow Edward and Carlisle have coffee. I wipe my eyes, sitting up a little as I yawn. Sadly, the simple yawn turns into a terrible coughing fit and I'm left gasping for air.

"Slowly, Bella," Edward says, rubbing my back. "Here, take a sip of water."

I manage to calm my breathing between sips of water. The tickle settles, but the ache in my chest feels worse. I hate this so damn much. Rubbing my stomach, I clear my throat and apologize.

"No need," Garrett says, smiling. "I'm only wanted to check in on you before my next surgery. I take it that cough explains how you feel?"

I nod. "Yep, pretty much."

"I'm sorry. Do you mind if I take a listen?" He holds up his stethoscope and I nod, feeling rather use to this by now. Edward, Carlisle, Garrett . . . I'm sure Kate and a few others will have a chance, too.

"Go ahead," I sigh.

He makes it quick and after converging with Edward and Carlisle, they decide my lungs sound craptastic, but only like pneumonia and not cancer-y. So, that's a bit of a relief.

"I'll come check on you before I leave tonight," he says, just as Kate enters. He turns his head, grinning as she walks over to me. "Well, hello. Fancy meeting you here."

She smirks, quirking her brow. "Shut up, Garrett."

They're totally hooking up. According to Garrett, who told Edward, it might get serious, but right now it's on the downlow. As odd as it is, I like that my cancerness brought them together. They spoke on the phone several times, ran into each other at the hospital, and one thing led to another.

"Take care, Bella," Garrett says. "Edward, Dr. Cullen."

He leaves, brushing past her and I think I notice a hint of a blush. I do have to admit the man looks good in scrubs. Not as good as Edward, but . . . handsome. Good for her.

"How are you feeling, Bella?" she asks.

"Worried about my little one, to be honest."

She nods and pulls out an instrument from her pocket to listen to my baby girl's heartbeat. Once the whoosh fills the air, I relax a little more and thank God. She says everything looks good, but promises she'll be upstairs later and do an ultrasound once I'm settled.

"Should I have an x-ray?" I ask.

"I know you're worried about that, but I can understand why the doctors might need it. I think at this point your daughter will be safe if they're cautious. It's really not much radiation. I mean, you've undergone much more before this. If it's for the best, I would say it should be fine."

I still don't feel bad about flipping out on Dr. Douchebag. He should have talked to _me._ I trust Kate, though, so if she feels it's safe, I'll do it. But I still don't have to like it. "If it comes to it, then," I say. "Does she need to be monitored?"

She nods. "To be on the safe side we can. Would that make you feel better?"

"Oddly enough yes," I laugh halfheartedly. "I just want to be sure she's okay. You know, since I'm so ill I need to be here for a few days."

I just really want to be able to ask Edward or Carlisle if she's okay and for them to tell me right away — to be on the safe side. She agrees and promises she'll order it once I'm transferred. Before she leaves, Tara comes back in to say it won't be too much longer. I'm kind of thankful because I want to sleep, but it's not like it'll be much calmer upstairs.

"Where am I going?" I ask.

"You're running a constant fever over one-oh-one, you need high-dose IV antibiotics, oxygen, and to be monitored, so I'm afraid that means the ICU."

"Of course it does," I sigh, closing my eyes.

. . . . .

The second I'm settled upstairs and all is calm, I manage to close my eyes and drift off between being disturbed by nurses — I have two of them, which sounds fun but is just doubly annoying when you're trying to sleep.

Esme arrives during one of my naps and once I wake up for good, I'm so thankful because she's brought clean clothes. Edward and Carlisle leave while she helps me clean up. I manage to get myself in the fresh bottoms and enjoy the sweatpants covering my cold legs. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to wear them, but I don't care. I finish it off with warm, fuzzy socks and smile contentedly.

"Thank you so, so much," I rasp, finding it harder to speak since waking up. The cough is getting to my throat, I guess. I just hope I don't lose my voice.

Esme smiles, waving her hand. "It was nothing. I didn't want to invade your personal space, so I just picked up a couple things. I did grab your toiletries."

I rummage through the bag, finding a new hair-tie and pull my hair up, sliding a headband in place to hold my bangs. I also have hand sanitizer in here, thankfully, and all kinds of lotions — even coconut butter. It's the little things that count.

"I feel so much better, Esme." I smile. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart." She almost grins and embraces me gently, careful of the wires. "Just let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

I shake my head and try to find a comfortable spot in the hospital bed — there isn't one. "You've done more than enough," I say. "I appreciate it so much. I just want to feel better and go home; although I'll probably be watched just as closely." I smile a little, noticing Edward's body just outside of the door to the right. "I bet he refuses to walk away any more than that."

Esme laughs, nodding in agreement. "It's a good thing he can shower here because he's certainly not leaving you long enough to go home and do it. He's just worried sick about you, sweetheart."

"I know, which is pretty terrifying," I sigh, speaking softly. "He tells me not to worry until he's worried and now he is, so I can't help but think something terrible could happen — and with my luck it _will._ "

She shakes her head and takes my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "He's not thinking like a doctor right now, honey. He loves you and your little girl so much and right now he's just a husband and father. If anything his medical knowledge only makes this harder on him."

"I'm sure it does; every complication and outcome is playing out in his head."

"Does Carlisle seem worried?"

"Does he ever?" I ask, cocking my brow as she smiles.

"True, but he adores you and thinks of you as a daughter. If anything were to rattle that calm exterior of his, it would be you and our granddaughter. He would tell you if something was wrong, I promise."

I know that, but it's still hard not to think so negatively. I'm always waiting for something to take my happiness away. The last few years of my life have been . . . honestly, it feels like a fairytale. To go from having nothing and no one — not even your health — to being part of a loving family, marrying the most incredible man in the world, and having his child, is a little hard to wrap my head around sometimes. Maybe it is all a lovely dream, but that means it could just as easily turn into a nightmare.

"I would, Bella." I look up to see Carlisle and Edward coming back in. He hands a cup to his wife and then sits down on the edge of my bed while Edward takes a seat in the chair beside me. "We all know how serious pneumonia is, so we're taking every precaution we can. No matter what happens, I will always be honest with you and I'll do everything in my power to take care of both of you."

I smile, moving my hand over the top of my bump. "I know you will. She's kicking."

Before Edward or Esme can dive at my stomach, I take Carlisle's hand and let him feel first. He instantly smiles brightly as he feels the movement. "Hello there, sweetpea. She's still just as active?"

I nod as he drops his hand and lets Esme take her turn. "She seems normal. She looks good, right?"

"Of course, even Kate said so. Right now we're mostly just worried about you, dear."

"And that's so much different than usual," I laugh dryly. "I'm so sorry for putting you all through this."

"There's no reason to apologize," Edward says, taking his turn and resting his hand against my bump as my little girl keeps on kicking up a storm. "All we want you to do is rest and feel better. This isn't your fault, so don't start blaming yourself. If anything, I probably brought this home to you. Blame me."

I narrow my eyes. "No! It's not your—"

"Exactly," he says, smiling. "It's no one's fault, so no one needs to be sorry. We're going to get you better and then everything will return to normal. You can keep buying baby clothes."

"We were going to do the nursery," I sigh.

"We'll do it later. We still have plenty of time," he assures me, leaning in to press his lips to mine. "I love you."

"I love you too, handsome." I kiss him this time, hoping he's right.

. . . . .

The fact that Edward wants me to rest is hilarious because my night nurses, whom I've dubbed the Doublemint Twins thanks to their green attire, won't let me close my eyes for more than fifteen minutes. They're so nice and I feel bad for hating them and those mint scrubs, but I _really_ do. I want to pull their identical ponytails every time they disturb me.

Doublemint Bitches.

"I need to get some more blood," Cora says, smiling so nicely as she pulls on gloves. "How are you feeling?"

 _Like I want to punch you._ "Same."

She nods and messes with my IV before filling the tube. She's trying to be so gentle, so I can't even complain that she's not good at her job. She's awesome at it — just too awesome when double. Megan is just as lovely, so it sucks to hate them.

"I know you hate us," she says, shaking the tube. "I'm sorry, but hopefully this is the last thing I need to wake you up for. We'll try to be quiet, Bella. I know the hospital isn't the best place to sleep."

"Well, it isn't a hotel, so I can't be too mad," I say, hating myself for being understanding. "I promise one of these two will start yelling if something goes wrong, if that helps."

"I probably would," Edward admits, laughing softly.

"I know you're in excellent hands," she says. "We'll try to let you get some sleep, okay? Just press the button if you need me."

"I will. Thank you so much."

She smiles, heading toward the door. "You're welcome."

Once she leaves I lift my head some, looking at the time and realizing how tired everyone else looks, too. I know Edward won't leave and I don't want him to, but Carlisle and Esme need to sleep in their own bed, not hospital recliners in an ICU room. Besides, they're technically breaking the rules by being here at ten-thirty at night.

"Why don't you guys go home?" I ask, noticing the croak in my voice is even worse. "Edward will call if something happens and it seems like I'm in good hands."

"Yes, you are," Carlisle says. "Are you sure you don't want us to stay?"

"We don't mind," Esme adds. "But if you'd rather, we understand."

I smile, knowing they'd happily sleep in those chairs if I asked, but I would never do that. "Please, sleep in your own bed. I'd feel better knowing you were comfortable. And I'd like you to be well rested, Carlisle."

He nods. "Understandable. We'll go home, then. If you need anything at all or anything, no matter how small, comes up please call me. I'll come back as quickly as possible."

"I'll keep in touch, Dad," Edward says.

"I'd appreciate it. Ready, my love?" he asks, standing up and holding his out for his wife.

She smiles, taking it and standing on her toes to meet his lips. "Maybe I can bring you something to eat tomorrow. Does anything sound good?"

I scrunch my nose, shaking my head. "I'm have no appetite whatsoever."

"You have to eat at some point, sweet girl," Edward says. "She needs you to be strong for her and to do that, you have to eat. Maybe something light?"

"Is there anything lighter than soup?"

He smiles sadly and I promise to _try_ whatever Esme brings. I'm quite sure it's going to go over about as well as it did this morning and the hospital's poor excuse for soup earlier.

. . . . .

Long after Esme and Carlisle leave and Edward's recliner is turned into a somewhat-respectable bed — thanks to multiple pillows and blankets from nurses — I find myself still struggling to sleep. Edward snores softly beside me and the machines all continue to beep softly. It's anything but quiet, but that doesn't bother me.

The elephant on my chest, though . . . He's a problem.

I see the number go down on the monitor every so often, dropping a little lower as the pressure increases. I don't want to call for a nurse and disturb Edward, but I think I could definitely use a little help. And thankfully, it soon arrives with Megan coming in quietly.

"Hey, are you having trouble breathing?" she whispers, pushing bottoms on the monitors and then reach for something behind me. I nod and almost beg her not to wake Edward. "I need to put a mask on you and I'm sorry, but I had to page the doctor, sweetie."

She rips open a bag, which _of course_ wakes up Edward. He jolts upright as he takes in the mask she's holding and connecting to tubing. "What's wrong?"

"O2 sats are dropping rapidly," Megan says, putting the mask tightly around my face after removing the nasal cannula.

Edward springs into action, borrowing her stethoscope and making me sit up so he can listen to my lungs. I can't help but cough as the mask helps air into my lungs; at least, I hope that's why. Edward moves the chest-piece around, continuing to listen as I try to calm the tickle.

Handing the instrument back to Megan, he looks down at me and caresses my cheek. "We need an x-ray now, sweet girl. Please, tell me you understand?"

All I can do is nod as tears fill my eyes. He gives orders to Megan just as Dr. Harkins, the ICU doctor, rushes into the room with Cora. Thankfully he agrees with Edward's orders and listens to my chest as Megan arranges the portable x-ray.

My room lights are flipped on brightly as Dr. Harkins examines me and I beg my lungs not to be so fucking craptastic right now. Is my little girl going to be okay? She can't be born yet, so they have to fix this. I don't care what it takes.

"Edward," I mumble, reaching my hand out to get his attention. I grab his arm and keep pulling until he gets as close as possible. I know it'll piss everyone in the room off, but I pull the mask down in case I don't get the chance to tell him. "Take care . . . of h-her," I whisper. "Love her a-and remember m-me. T-tell her." I'm begging and he nods. "I-I love y-you."

He pulls the mask back up and keeps nodding. "I love you too, Bella. I'll take care of her. You don't need to worry, just breathe for us."

I do as he asks and lay back, praying this isn't it. I've been here before, but this . . . this time it feels different. I'm not just fighting for myself I have to keep my daughter alive. If my battle with cancer taught me nothing else, it showed me how strong I am and that I'm capable of surviving against the odds. I won't lose this battle, either — not with her life on the line.


	9. Chapter 9

**Edward**

I sit on the edge of my chair and gather my hands together. I take a deep breath and glance at Bella's vitals before bowing my head and closing my eyes. The last time I did this Bella was in a medically induced coma and I came the closest I ever have to losing her. I prayed that day, and I feel rather terrible that this is the first time I've done it since, but I need another miracle like before.

I plead for her life, for our daughter's, for this to go in any direction other than where it's heading. I promise I'll do anything and everything. I beg over and over for Him not to take my wife and little girl as I let the tears go for a brief moment. I wipe my cheeks and scrub my face, looking up to find her vitals once again.

Stable, but barely.

Bella's heading into respiratory failure. It's not if, but when. She'll be intubated and put on a vent, and very possibly never wake up. Our daughter will be delivered by cesarean and also possibly die. But I can't think like that, according to the love of my life. I have to be positive. She won't give up, so I can't give up on her. Medicine will do all it can, so she just needs to keep fighting.

I let myself rest back against the chair and sigh, glancing at my watch. It's just past five a.m. and it's been about twenty-four hours since I heard her soft voice. The mask makes it impossible to hear her and even if I could, she can barely speak. But I can hear her groan, and I instantly jolt out of my chair figure out what she needs.

"Love?"

She turns her head toward me as I caress her cheek. Slowly, her eyes blink open and nothing brings me more joy right now.

I smile and kiss her forehead. "Are you okay?"

She nods and touches my hand on the bed, laying her fingers over it. I quickly wrap her small hand in mine and kiss her once more. "I love you too, sweet girl. You're doing the same and still stable. She's as perfect as always."

I don't miss the crinkle of her eyes and little smile. I just wish she could talk to me, too. Moving down her body, I lay my hand over our daughter and lift her gown, kissing her smooth skin.

"How are you, little one?" I put my ear down, looking at Bella as I smile. "Ah, you're good. Still nice and cozy and you plan on staying that way. Good to know, sweetpea. She loves you, Mommy."

Bella runs her hand through my hair and this is as close to an intimate moment we've had here. I so wish I could take away her pain and suffering. I keep racking my brain, wondering if this started sooner than we realize, but I come up empty. The onset was so quick due to her compromised immune system and respiratory problems. The bacteria is aggressive, but we're treating her just as aggressively. She's just so incredibly ill, though.

I stay still, lightly resting my head on her stomach as her hand continues to run through my hair for minutes. Even when she has to drop her hand, I just take it and hold it to my lips.

Fuck, I can't lose her.

I love her more than my own life and I've always wanted nothing more than protect her. She's so strong, so brave, but she shouldn't have to be. She's been to the brink of death and back and fought more than her fair share of battles. She's so good and it's not right that her life's been filled with tragedies.

She's literally given the shirt off of her back to help another person and had been helping Mom with charity work as she went to school. The plan was for her to finish her degree in psychology — which her cancer diagnosis had put off — but with the baby, it's on hold once again. She wants to help other cancer patients, see them succeed, and support them if they don't. She could very easily sit on her ass never lift another finger, but she doesn't want that. She wants to give back, to help, because she's pure good. She's lost everything and everyone, but she's not bitter. She's happy and bubbly.

Eventually one of Bella's day nurses comes in to start her shift and I have to move away. Bella's asleep again and will probably stay that way for a while. She went from being restless to almost catatonic, and Heather doesn't bother her in the least while taking her vitals.

"Any problems, Dr. Cullen?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Vitals held stable through the night. I want to do another x-ray this morning, though. She seems to be in pain and I'm concerned. Would you arrange that? And let me know when her morning labs are back?"

She smiles brightly, nodding. "Of course. Black coffee and a blueberry muffin, right?"

"Who told you?" I ask, slightly amused. My order is memorized by many of the hospital staff and I've wound up with a few too many cups of coffee and muffins since we've been here.

"Megan. She likes to mess with me, though, so I wanted to double check."

I laugh softly. "That's it. Thank you, Heather."

I hand her a twenty and she refuses, but I tell her to get coffee for the other nurses as well and she reluctantly accepts before leaving the room. I take the last few moments before her doctor's start rounding and examine her myself. Her lungs sound as terrible as her x-rays show. Honestly, she's never had such a serious case of pneumonia before and the pregnancy only complicates it. I know what Dr. Harkins is going to suggest today and I'm dreading it, hoping Dad gets here first. He doesn't do anything the other doctors in this hospital can't, but he knows medicine better than any physician I've ever met. He's brilliant and I want his input before anything is done to my wife and daughter

. . . . .

I take a shower in the lounge, but manage it in record time and I'm back at Bella's side within five minutes. Nothing's changed and I thank Heather for sitting with her. The timing is good because my parents and Alice arrive soon after. We talk softly, trying not to disturb her.

"No change is kind of good, isn't it?" Alice asks.

"If she were responding to the antibiotic we'd know it by now," I say. "Her vitals are stable but her lungs sound worse."

Mom grips Dad's hand, looking up at him. "What now?"

"We're going to try a different treatment, a stronger one. This may get worse before it gets better. You both need to be prepared for that. We're doing everything we can for her, so I just need you to trust me."

"Of course, dear," Mom says, wiping at her tears.

Alice plays with Bella's hair, unabashedly crying. "You can't die, Bella," she sniffles. "Your little girl needs you. We all need you. You have to be able to do more, Daddy."

"I wish so badly I could, sweetheart," he says before resting his elbows on his knees and scrubbing his face. He looks exhausted, concerned, and showing some of his sixty-some years for once. "I swear that I won't give—"

Bella's monitors blare, interrupting him and sending both of us out of our seats. She's barely breathing and his hand slams into the code button above her. Almost on autopilot, I pull the bed away from the wall with him before he listens to her chest.

Suddenly the room fills, Mom and Alice are pushed out, and I'm watching as my father runs a code on my wife. I'm frozen, somehow pushed against the window and barely able to see.

"Dad, what's happening?" I demand over the voices filling the room.

He looks up at me briefly and he looks worried. "She need to be intubated, son. If you need to leave—"

I shake my head. "No. Please, save her."

He nods before diving back into action, sliding behind the head of the bed and holding his hands out for the laryngoscope and tube.

"Don't leave me, Bella," I whisper to myself, watching the horrific scene play out before me and feeling absolutely helpless.

It feels as time slows down as my eyes flick between Bella, the monitor, and watching my father's adept hands work. He's careful but quick, placing the tube before a nurse bags her. Her sats start to rise and they put her on a ventilator to keep her breathing. As of now, she's on life support. The chaos comes just before the doctors start making their rounds. First comes Kate and she makes sure the baby is stable and there's no change. Thankfully, nothing as of yet. Next Garrett stops by and can really only offer support as a friend. She doesn't have cancer, thank God.

By the time Bella's hospitalist comes in, we've started to discuss delivering our daughter early. If Bella codes again, if her heart stops, we could lose the baby too. No matter what I decide, my daughter's life is in danger, but at twenty-six weeks, she has a chance to survive.

"Give her steroids," I say, looking at Kate. "If something changes again, I need my daughter to have the best chance possible."

She nods. "I agree, Edward."

"So do I," Dad says. "You know what Bella wants more than anything else, son. I will call in the very best neonatologist in the country and she'll have every opportunity. At this point it's not a matter of if she needs to be delivered, but when. Delivering will help Bella, as well. Without the stress of the pregnancy, she'll be stronger to fight this."

I know this, but the idea of making this decision kills me. What if my daughter dies because of my choice? Or Bella does? I face death every day in my work, but this is so much more difficult. I try to think what I'd do if she weren't my wife, but I can't think rationally right now. All the medical knowledge I have is useless to me.

"If something changes we'll . . . we'll deliver," I say, hoping I haven't doomed my child. "Goddamn it, I fucking hate this!"

I drop my head into my hands, scrubbing my face roughly. This is torture, living on the brink of life and death. The two greatest loves of my life are in peril and I'm not strong enough to handle losing them. Bella wanted me to save our little girl, so I have to follow her wishes — but what if it means losing her?

. . . . .

The morning turns into afternoon and with Bella stable, Mom and Alice return to her side. Emmett stops in with a card from Seth around four and tells me Rosalie wants to be here, but can't bring Seth. He's much too young to see this, to even know about it, so I completely understand. With the room filled with people who love her, I hope Bella can feel it.

The once bland ICU room is anything but with cards from Seth, comforts of home from Mom, and even balloons. She can't have flowers, otherwise, I'm sure we'd be surrounded by dozens. So many people I work with and those who know Bella stop by, checking on her briefly through the day and I appreciate it. With so much love and so many prayers for Bella, I hope it's enough to help. If there's a God up there, He can't ignore so many pleas, can He?

"Bella wanted so badly to decorate the nursery," I say, holding her hand. "I figured we had plenty of time to get to it."

"We can finish it before she comes home," Emmett says. "Rose went through three cribs before she found one she liked, so I'm skilled at assembling them."

"I'd appreciate that," I laugh halfheartedly. "Thank you."

"And we'll decorate it," Alice says. "I think between Mom, Rose, and me we can follow Bella's ideas. She constantly talked about them and I sketched a few things for her. She'll love it and it'll be ready when the baby can come home. That'll be a while, won't it?"

I nod. "She's fourteen weeks early, so she'll be in the NICU for a good part of that time. If she doesn't have complications it may not be that long, but it could be a few months."

"Plenty of time to finish it," Mom says, reaching over and taking my free hand. "Everything will be all right, sweetheart."

"I hope so. I, uh . . . I might grab something to eat, if that's okay?" I ask, looking down at Bella.

"Of course," Mom says. "Take your time. We'll be right here and call you immediately if anything happens."

"Thank you," I sigh, standing from my chair and leaning down to kiss Bella's forehead. "I love you, sweet girl. I'll be right back."

I hate leaving Bella's side, but the small room is starting to close in on me and I need a few minutes. I take the elevator downstairs and get a sandwich from the cafeteria, sitting at a table to eat it quickly.

I'm not surprised to find Emmett's followed me when he sits down across from me and takes my coffee. He drinks and sits silently for a few moments as I devour the turkey sandwich.

"Have you lost it yet?" he asks and I cock my brow.

"Lost what?"

"If that were Rose upstairs, I'd be beating down doors and threatening people. You seem oddly composed."

I sigh, wiping my mouth and tossing down the napkin. "I've been down this road before, Em. I've begged for someone to save her, but there's nothing else I can do. She has the best medical care possible, so what would breaking down a door do?"

He nods. "True, but I know you're not that composed when it comes to Bella. I remember our first conversation about her, you know?" He smiles softly, tearing apart a napkin. "You gushed about how smart she was, pretty, and strong. You went on and on about how brave she was and how you wanted to save her; how you needed to."

"Yeah, she stole my heart the minute I met her."

I still remember how brave she looked in that exam room, willing to do anything to save her life. I vowed I wouldn't give up on her and then I quickly fell in love as we talked, turning her half hour appointment into my entire lunch hour. She was completely alone and I never wanted her to feel that way again.

"I can't picture a world without her in it, bro" he says. "Her story isn't over yet."

I smile slightly. "No, it isn't. And it sure as hell won't end like this. I just have to stay strong for her. This might get harder."

"If you need a pep talk, just give me a call. Ready to go back to her?"

"God yes."

He grins and stands, clapping his hand on my back as I follow him out of the cafeteria. Nothing's changed since I left, thankfully, and I return to my seat next to Bella with renewed hope. If anyone can beat this, it's her. I believe in her strength.

"Have you and Bella picked a name?" Mom asks then quickly adds, "Not that you have to tell us is."

We'd talked, but hadn't decided on one. We didn't even narrow it done much, to be honest. "No, we thought we had time."

Mom's expression softens and she squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Don't be. I guess we should have talked about it more, huh? I don't know if I can name my daughter without her input. Or if I even should."

"Hopefully if we deliver, she'll be able to come off the vent soon after," Dad says. "You two can discuss it then, so you don't need to do it alone."

I hope I won't have to. "Yeah, true. God, I could be a father anytime. It feels . . . "I can't describe it. It's an incredibly strong mixture of fear and joy. I'm so excited to be a dad, but the idea of doing it without Bella makes it unbearable to think about. My little girl might be here soon, though. I want so badly to hold her, to see her beautiful face, but I so, so wish it were in a few more weeks. "I just wish it wasn't so rushed."

"Of course, son," Dad says. "It's the most amazing thing to become a parent. I experienced it three times and was never prepared."

"I thought I was prepared," Emmett says. "And then he didn't stop crying."

"You were barely prepared," Alice says. "Rose did _everything_ for Seth. You just changed poopy diapers."

"Which smell fucking terrible," he laughs. "But I wouldn't change a damn thing, Edward. It's incredible."

I lay my hand over Bella's stomach. "I'm excited, but I can definitely wait a little longer. And so can you, little one. Don't get any ideas."

. . . . .

The next morning's x-ray shows a pleural effusion developing, which requires a procedure to drain the fluid. It all goes relatively smoothly with Dr. Harkins performing the procedure and Dad observing closely. I help hold Bella's body in the necessary position and it ends with a good amount of the fluid drained and Bella's vitals stable, so I breathe a sigh of relief.

It proves to be premature after about a half hour when Bella's right lung collapses, which sets of a chain of events I'd had nightmares of, but I somehow stay in control.

"Call Kate and get an OR," I order as the room fills after the code button is pressed. "She needs a chest tube stat."

"Let's get a film," Harkins says as he and Dad run the code.

I know exactly where this is going and though I despise leaving Bella's side, I'd rather do it now and not later when she needs me beside her. I run to a supply closet, searching for a pair of scrubs and change right there, grabbing a cap on my way out. They're just beginning the chest tube procedure when I return and Kate's running down the hall from the elevators as I stand outside the room.

"You have to deliver the baby now," I say, hearing the alarms in Bella's room. "Please, Kate," I beg. "Save them both."

She nods and quickly runs into the room. It's one thing after another and now Bella's heart rate is erratic. They're giving her medications to try and help, but nothing works and eventually have to shock her. With Bella quite literally dying, the baby is in distress too.

"Is the OR ready?" Kate yells and gets an affirmative. "All right, let's go. We need to get the baby out now."

The very worst case scenario is playing out before me and it's all I can do to just follow them as the team rolls Bella out of the room, still trying to get her heart rate back into a normal rhythm with medications. The second she's on the OR table, they shock her again and I start scrubbing with Kate.

"NICU team is on their way," she tells me. "You need to go with your daughter, okay? Let us take care of Bella. You've brought her this far, Edward, so now you have to trust us. You made the right decision."

I hope so, but if we'd delivered yesterday, things wouldn't be so dire. Though I know Kate won't let me touch Bella, I still scrub and gown before sitting beside my wife's head. Dad got her heart back into a normal rhythm and now he's scrubbing, hopefully assisting Kate. How he can be so rational in a time like this is beyond me, but he's completely focus and doesn't let emotions get in the way.

"Hold on for me, love," I say, caressing her cheek as I kiss her forehead. "We're going to be parents. I'm so sorry you're missing this."

"Are we ready to begin?" Kate asks, walking in with Dad and putting her arms through a gown. "Let's bring this little girl into the world, shall we?"

My little girl.

It's oddly calm after the blaring of monitors and Kate starts the cesarean by making her first cut. Minutes . . . in minutes, I'll be a father. I look up at my own and he catches my gaze. He's on the other side of Kate, thankfully assisting her.

"Get ready to meet your daughter, son," he says. "Where's NICU?"

"They're coming in now," a nurse says.

As they set up, Kate continues the surgery and starts to open the uterus. I stand up, looking over the curtain and watch as she pulls the tiniest body free and it's almost effortless because she's not moving.

My daughter is as still as possible as she's passed off to another person and I quickly follow, feeling drawn to my baby. She's tiny, too tiny. And translucent. She's not breathing. Does she have a pulse?

I push myself as close as I can and see her in the incubator as the doctor works on her. Oxygen, compressions, check for a pulse, and repeat. They get an IV in her and start medications, trying to resuscitate her.

"Come on, sweetpea," I beg, putting my finger next to her teeny hand. "Daddy needs you, please. Please, baby."

I plead for her to breathe and suddenly, she does and her heart beats. I see it move her little chest. Tears are rolling down my face but I don't care. She's alive. My tiny, sweet, baby girl is alive. Dear God, please stay that way.

"Let's get her upstairs," the doctor says. "Sir, I'm Dr. Peters. You have a strong little girl here. You should come with her."

I nod absentmindedly. "Yeah, of course. Dad?"

I look across the room and he nods, his hands covered in my wife's blood. I glance at the monitors, seeing a low BP and unstable heart rate. "Go with your daughter, son," he says. "I'll stay with mine."

I smile sadly. "Thank you. I love you, Bella."

 _You're a mom, love. Stay with us and meet your perfect daughter._

I run out of the room with the incubator and keep a hand on it as we head upstairs. It hurts to leave Bella, but this is what she wants more than anything else. I'm following her wishes, and I know Dad won't let her go without one hell of a fight.

* * *

So, this is where I pulled the story and wow, omg, I am a terrible person for doing that! Good news, this will be completed. Chapter ten is done, minus some tweaks, so I should be able to post tonight or tomorrow.

I just want to tell you all once again how sorry I am for pulling these stories. I have not been in the best place mentally. I've suffered from depression, anxiety, and PTSD since I was a child. If you do as well, you'll understand that sometimes you can be doing great for years and then something in your head just . . . breaks. There's no other way for me to describe it. I lied to myself for a long time that I was fine, but I'm not and reposting these stories is a way for me to get back to who I used to be.

I've lost my family, my friends, and even my dog within the last two years. That's not to say I haven't had an amazing life because I have. I'm engaged and a homeowner, which are two things I never saw myself having. But I never saw myself losing my family, my dad nearly dying and moving across the country alone, and my stepmom cutting off all communication. I'm struggling to cope and move on, but I'm taking steps to change and heal.

 **Just . . . thank you all for reading. For caring. It means more to me than I can ever express.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Edward**

"Hey there, little fighter," I say, walking into the private NICU room, eyes already on my daughter's tiny form in the incubator. "Any problems?"

Mom shakes her head and her eyes crinkle from the smile behind her mask. "No, she's been absolutely perfect." She stands up as I lower the door and caress my daughter's cheek with the tip of my finger. "And Bella?"

My gentle smile falls as I shake my head. "No change."

Her hand rubs my back and all I can do is look at my daughter to keep the tears at bay. She's six days old and doing surprisingly well after her terrifying birth and first twenty-four hours. She's already endured heart surgery and a series of complications, but . . . I can't give up on her. She's strong, a fighter like her mother, so I made the difficult decision to continue treatment—and possibly cause her suffering. As a physician, I don't know if I made the right choice, but as father, I know I did. She's now thriving, getting a little healthier each day. She has an incredibly long road ahead of her, but this is good right now.

After pulling my shirt over my head, I make sure I have plenty of blankets and then carefully lift her tiny body out of the incubator and lay her against my chest as I settle into the rocking chair. She can't breathe on her own and needs a feeding tube for nutrients, along with IVs and monitors, but I can still hold her. When things were still very touch and go, a nurse suddenly demanded I take my shirt off and, after my horrified expression and her boisterous laugh, she explained kangaroo care. I've been doing it as much as possible in between seeing Bella. Hopefully soon, she can relish this incredible feeling, too.

"Momma and I talked, and I still can't name you, sweetpea," I say, pressing my lips to the top of her impossibly small head. "It's just that I'm terrible at naming things, not that you're a thing, but she's so very much better. It might be a little while longer, but you don't mind the nicknames, do you?"

I hate that it's been almost a week since her birth and she's still Baby Girl Cullen. Bella has so much waiting for her, so many things only she can do, but with each passing day my faith crumbles a little more. She coded again after I left with our daughter. Dad and Kate worked tirelessly, but it took a long time for them to resuscitate her. We won't know the full extend of the damage until she wakes up, if she does. Her lungs are starting to clear with the right antibiotics, but it means nothing if she never regains consciousness.

"I'm going to go sit with Bella, sweetheart," Mom says. "Is your dad . . . How is he?"

"About the same," I sigh. "I tried talking to him. You know I don't blame him, but it doesn't seem to matter because he blames himself. He left her side once to get coffee while I was there."

She smiles sadly and I know this is killing her. Dad didn't do anything wrong, but it was the perfect storm of complication after complication. No one could have done anything differently, but I highly doubt he'll realize that unless Bella wakes up.

"Well, I'm going to try and get him to eat, at least," she says. "Can I get you anything?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you. Tell Dad to come see his granddaughter again soon, though."

With a nod, she turns and leaves the small room as I gently caress my sweet girl's back with just a fingertip. At twenty-five weeks, she was nowhere near ready to come out and it still nags at me if I've done the right thing by her. Yes, she's improving, but . . . there's just so much we can't know until she's older. I tell myself she's going to live a full life, she'll be healthy and normal, but what if I'm wrong? What if she only knows pain and suffering?

I lose track of time as I sit with her. Her nurse comes in and out multiple times, but I've lost count and when I finally glance at the clock, I'm shocked we've been like this for three hours. The sweet girl on my chest looks as peaceful as she can possibly be with all the monitors and tubes and I can't describe the feeling settling into my chest as I gaze upon her. She's so tiny and frail, but all I can see is strength. Each rise and fall of her chest is a victory and though her skin is still nearly translucent and there isn't an ounce of fat on her, she's absolutely gorgeous.

"You are your mother's daughter, sweetpea," I whisper, kissing her hat-covered head. "Strong, beautiful, and brave. I need you both, okay? You have to keep getting stronger and improving because I _know_ your momma will, too."

 **. . . . .**

At one pound and six ounces, my little fighter is hardly a heavyweight champion, but she definitely deserves the belt. I'm constantly amazed at how well she's doing, though that isn't to say we didn't have some hurdles to jump. Still, she's ten days old and only getting stronger. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for her mom.

Everyday I sit beside Bella and pray for her to wake up, but she hasn't and I don't know if she ever will. Dad's brought in specialist after specialist, but all we know is she has brain function—to what extent, we don't know. Her body has been through hell, though. She needs a chance to rest and recover and maybe this is just her body's way of doing exactly that. I have to believe that when she's ready, she'll come back to us. There's nothing I can do to fix this. At least I could change her meds when it came to the cancer. I knew how to fight it and with her strength, we did it. This on the other hand . . . I can't fight with her.

"Son?"

Looking up and opening my eyes, I find Dad in the doorway to the NICU room and offer a small smile. "Hey, how's Bella?"

He clears his throat and walks in, taking the seat next to me. "She's the same. I just . . . I haven't seen enough of this little one and thought maybe it was time."

Glancing down at the sleeping girl on my chest, I nod and smile as I gather her gently. "Grab a warm blanket from that cabinet." I tilt my head toward the counter and he's quick to get one. With everything attached to her, it's not exactly easy to move our sweetpea, but Dad and I manage it easily enough and I can tell this is something he needs.

"You know you saved her life, right?" I ask as he gazes down at her. He tries to shake his head, but I won't let him off like that. "You did. And whatever happens to Bella is not your fault. You and I both know she wanted one thing, and because of you and Kate, and everyone else, that's happened. She would feel awful, knowing you're doing this to yourself over her."

He sighs and I can tell he agrees. Bella _would_ feel guilty for causing any kind of disruption in life. Hell, she has before. "It all went wrong at once," he says softly, shaking his head. "In all of my years, I've never been so terrified. But I suppose I also have never considered a patient my own daughter. Edward, if she doesn't—"

"I can't think that way," I say, cutting him off with a wave of my hand. "She wouldn't want us to, Dad. I have to believe she'll wake up. For me, for you, but most of all, for this little girl. She _knows_ her daughter needs her, so I won't consider the possibility of her not coming back to us."

He nods before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. "She is quite the fighter. And if there was ever a reason, this little one would be it. You both did a great job, son."

Eyeing the tiny human nestled against his chest, I can't help but agree. "Thank you. I'm going down to see Bella."

"I'll stay with her. Hopefully they'll be together soon—" His eyes suddenly pop open and zero in on mine. "I wonder . . ."

"What?"

"The kangaroo care helped her, so I wonder if Bella may benefit from holding her. We can't move either of them, though."

"Why not? She's gone down to the OR three separate times, which is further than Bella's room. We'll have the room cleaned first and be careful." I can't believe I haven't thought of this. It's so obvious and yet it didn't even cross my mind. This little girl is Bella's world, so maybe she needs to know our daughter is going to survive. It can't hurt anything. "Dad, you're a genius."

He cocks his brow, laughing softly. "I'm not sure about that, but I think we should try it. Go arrange it. If anyone asks, it's under my authority."

 **. . . . .**

By the time we bring Sweetpea down to Bella's room, every single thing has been sanitized and cleaned, leaving no room for mistake. They're both still incredibly susceptible to infections, so we can't take any chances. Bella's pneumonia has cleared and she was never contagious, so there's no risk of getting our daughter sick, but there are still any number of things that could make them ill. I have no idea if this will help, but even if it doesn't, at least Bella will have finally held our little girl.

She had a plan for all of this; the labor, birth, recovery . . . all of it. It's all written out in her binder, which is still at home with her go bag I never grabbed. Even the bag for the baby remains at the house, which I haven't been to since this all started. Nothing went according to her plan, but the most disappointing thing is that she missed the birth and never got to hold her. She'd planned to take her right away and start breastfeeding, and though I can't give that back to her, this is something I can do.

"Ready to meet your momma, sweetpea?" I ask, very carefully lifting her from the incubator and turning toward Bella. Mom's ready with a blanket to put over them and as I lay her down, I bring Bella's hand up to lay on her tiny back.

The sight before me leaves me breathless and longing. Why did it have to go this way? Hasn't Bella suffered enough? For Christ's sake, she had _lung cancer._ None of this is fair or right, but there's also nothing I can do to change it—no matter how dearly I wish otherwise.

"This is our daughter, Bella love," I say, caressing her hand over our little girl's back. "You did it and she's going to survive, but we need you too. She needs her momma and I . . . I don't think I can do this without you."

Tears burn my eyes as I imagine a life without her. How can I raise our daughter with only half of my heart? "Remember telling me how you couldn't wait to braid her hair? You painted a picture of the first day of school with your words. Pigtails, you said. The cutest bows. And if she hated dresses and skirts, you said it didn't matter. All that mattered was being there, helping her get ready, and sending her off. I can't do it without you, sweetheart. Please, _please_ come back to us."

I know my family is gathered around and I'm falling apart in front of them, but I don't care. These two are my entire life and I can't live without either of them. In the short time I've spent with my daughter, I've watched a personality blossom in the subtlest ways. She doesn't cry or even open her eyes, but I can tell when she's content—like when she's against my chest or in her grandmother's arms. And when she's upset and her little face scrunches just slightly, I know she wants to scream and tell people to leave her alone. Bella deserves to see this—to experience these moments.

"Come back to us, love," I whisper, gently pressing my lips to her forehead. "You've fought time and time again, and I know you're tired, but I need you to keep fighting and come back to us. To me. To her. You're not alone anymore, Bella, and _so_ many people need you. Please, open your eyes."

Her beautiful browns stay hidden behind her eyelids as I caress her cheek and I know that eventually they'll open, but I wish so fucking badly they would right now. I don't want her to miss another moment of our daughter's life because this feeling—the way my heart seems to grow when I look at our girl—is one of the best I've ever felt. She deserves to feel this same way—to look at what we've created and feel nothing but love and pride and joy. The fact that I can't share this with her is tearing me apart. All of our plans have fallen apart and I have no idea how I'm supposed to do any of this without her.

Wiping my eyes, I kiss her forehead once more before just watching the two of them. I want to believe I can see Bella's hand twitch over our daughter's back—I imagine it's the sign I've been waiting for—but I'm not quite that naïve. A muscle spasm is much more plausible and, sadly, the reality.

* * *

If this read super choppy, I'm so sorry. It kind of took a year and a half to write. Good news is half of the next chapter is written and it's already as long as this one is, so hopefully that'll make up for it. Thank you all so, so, _so_ much for all the kind words and reviews. You don't know how much they brighten my day and make me happy.


	11. Chapter 11

It takes every ounce of my strength to open my eyes, but I can't keep them open—feeling as if sandbags are weighing them down. My hand is warm and through the haze I hear soft beeping grow louder and louder until a voice cuts through the sound. Warm and deep, it tells me to open my eyes and I quickly recognize who it belongs to.

"E-Ed . . . ward?" I rasp out, trying again to open my heavy eyes. I feel his hand tighten around mine and I know I'm right. It's him. "B-B . . ."

"She's right here, love," he says, moving my hand to lay over a small form on my chest. "Our little girl is strong, just like you."

I feel tears burn my eyes and fall to my cheeks, but all that matters is the tiny being laying against my chest. Though blurry, my eyes stay on her as I watch her little back rise and fall with each breath. _Is this real?_ She's so, so tiny and Edward's hand is bigger than she is, but he's right. I can tell she's a fighter; she'd have to be if what I remember is correct.

My head aches as I try to piece together my last memories, but all I can recall is being sick. How did I go from being sick to having my daughter? I was only twenty-five weeks. " _H-How?"_

He chuckles softly as I glance up, finding his pretty green eyes smiling above me. "You gave her every single chance, sweetheart. She's had some complications, which we can discuss later, but she's incredibly strong and brave. She doesn't give up. She's twelve days old today. We, uh . . . we weren't sure if this would help, but Dad thought it could and I knew if nothing else, you could at least hold her. Bella, I thought I was going to lose you."

His words grow soft before he dips his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. His jaw is completely covered in hair, which means he hasn't shaved in weeks. He never lets it get so unruly, but I can only imagine he's had more pressing things on his mind.

"I'm s-sorry," I whisper and he shakes his head.

"No apologizing, love. You're here, our little girl is doing amazingly well, and we have our entire lives ahead of us. You've proven time and time again how strong you are, and yet I still worried tirelessly. That's on me. You have no idea how much I've missed you—how much we've _both_ missed you. I mean, our daughter doesn't even have a name yet."

My eyes widen at the realization. "Wh-What have you b-been calling her?" I ask shakily, slowly moving my eyes around the small, dimly-lit room. We're alone and the clock on the wall tells me it's the middle of the night. "Your parents?"

"Considering the text I just sent them, they'll probably be here within ten minutes," he teases wearily. He looks so incredibly exhausted and I feel awful.

 _Twelve days._ God, he must have been so terrified, felt so alone, and helpless. "I'm _so_ sor—"

He literally presses a finger to my lips to silence me, earning himself what I hope is some grade-A brow cocking. The sound of his melodic laugh fills the room, warming my heart. "No apologizing. Or else I'll start, got it?" he asks. "And I've been guilting myself for two weeks now, so let's just say I have quite a few apologies I could spew about not realizing how sick you were getting and not delivering sooner, but enough of that, okay? We have a daughter to focus on and . . . she's pretty damn amazing—like her mom."

I look down at the tiny baby on my chest and my heart honestly _aches_ as it grows with the love I'm suddenly overwhelmed with. After everything—each round of chemo, every scare, every surgery and scan . . . it's brought her to me. To us. And I know without a doubt, I'd do it all again to be right here—with my sweet girl sleeping on my chest as my husband looks at us with immense love and pride.

"Hope," I whisper, caressing her back lightly as I look up and meet Edward's eyes.

He smiles brightly and lays his hand over mine. "It's perfect, sweetheart. I, uh . . . had an idea for her middle name a few days ago. I understand if you don't like it."

"No, please. I'm sure I'll love it."

"It's just . . . if it weren't for Dad, I don't this would have ended like it did. He took this pretty hard. I'm mean, the man wouldn't leave your side for the first twenty-four hours."

I gasp softly, shaking my head. "Oh my God. No one blamed him, right?"

"Oh, no, no," he quickly says. "He blamed himself, though, and I thought we could show him how thankful we are by giving her his name. Hope Carlisle Cullen?"

My cracked, dry lips curl up into a grin as I nod. I love it. I love it more than I ever thought possible, and it fits her _perfectly._ All I see when I look at her is hope. She's already fought so hard to be here, and it tears me apart that I missed her having surgery. Edward fills me in on everything I missed and it breaks my heart how much she's suffered. I just wish I could bear it all for her. I've known pain and sickness, and I don't want her to as well.

"Is her heart fixed?" I ask, sniffling softly.

The way his eyes fall tell me it's not, but he quickly masks it. "We don't know everything yet. She still has a _very_ long way to go, but she's made it this far, love. She's nearly two weeks old and her chances only get better from here. It might not be easy, but we can handle anything."

Part of me feels like such a failure. _Why couldn't I make it to term? She's sick because of_ me _and we could still lose her. What did I do wrong?_ I knew this pregnancy was risky, but I wanted her. I still want her—God, more than anything. But _I_ caused her all of this pain. Maybe if I'd done something differently or, I don't know, ate better. I shouldn't have left the house and exposed myself to germs.

"It's going to be okay, Bella," Edward says, wiping a tear from my cheek. "She's got all the help she could need right here. This is one of the best hospitals for preemies and not for nothing, but she's a bit of a VIP here. Sometimes nepotism isn't such a terrible thing."

"No, I guess not," I say with another sniffle as her little hand against my chest suddenly moves. "Aww, hi, sweet girl."

"You know; her vitals have never been better." He points up at the monitor to my left where her equipment is. "She knows your heartbeat. She did well with me, but . . . Momma's got the special touch, huh, sweetpea?" He kisses her tiny hand against my chest before lifting his head and pressing his lips to mine. "I love you, sweetheart. Thank you. Despite how it ended, you did everything right and that's the only reason she's still here. I'm so proud of you."

I shake my head, feeling another wave of tears burn my eyes. "I never w-wanted her to suffer."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he says, cupping my cheek and keeping my eyes on him. "Things happen. People get sick and sometimes, even in the best of circumstances, no one can save them. We're not there, love. We've been to that brink more times than I care to remember, but we've always come back. _You've_ always fought to come back. I look at this little girl and see you. I see your strength and bravery in her. Against the odds, she's going to triumph—like you've always done."

He's being way too incredibly sweet and, though I'd like to argue, I can't. I understand what he's saying because she is strong and brave, but I'm not the only one she got it from. Weak people don't stay and stand by your side through the hardest moments of your life. They don't choose the fight when so much more is available to them. Edward will always believe I'm the strong one, but I'm nothing without him. From the moment I walked into his office and asked how not to die, he's been there. He's stayed beside me through every up and down, knowing full well the likelihood of us having a normal, long life together. He picked the hard road.

He picked me.

* * *

I spend most of the next three days asleep, but by the fourth I'm finally able to keep my eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time. I still feel completely drained, but thankfully, it doesn't take anything to gaze at the perfect little girl on my chest. She's doing astonishingly well, but I know we have a long road ahead of us. Edward says she'll be here for quite sometime—months, even. She needs to get much, much bigger and stronger before she's really even out of the woods, but right now I'm so hopeful.

Which really is a fitting name.

"Aww, I'm so going to run out of storage space," Alice says, snapping picture after picture of us.

Rolling my eyes, I try swatting her away but it's no use. "I look horrible, you know that?"

She laughs and finally puts the thing down, settling into a chair next to Esme. "You're gorgeous, Bella. Absolutely glowing."

"You'd do well to shush because I am not buying what you're selling. Besides, there will be plenty of time for decent pictures later on. Right now I just want to spend every second focusing on her."

"She is just the sweetest thing already," Esme says with a grin, leaning in to lightly touch Hope's back. "I can't wait until we can hold her."

With all the equipment she needs, moving her isn't a simple thing and considering how young she still is, her doctor asked we keep her on my chest or in the isolette. She's still incredibly susceptible to infection, but in a few weeks she'll be much stronger. Honestly, I just can't wait to hear her cry. I'm sure I'll regret it at some point, but it's just one of those things.

"She's excited, too," I say with a soft laugh. "You're going to be spoiled to the extreme, aren't you, Hope?"

Carlisle clears his throat, holding up one of the gift bags I opened earlier. "I'd say she already is. She might even give Alice a run for her money."

"I am _not_ spoiled," she says, sounding incredibly spoiled. She even pouts to prove his point.

Esme laughs softly, rolling her eyes. "You are, but it's mostly his fault. I only take a small part of the blame because with the way you had him wrapped around your little finger, nothing could have stopped him from doing anything you asked. Edward and Emmett, too. Imagine, Bella, the three of them—two teenage boys and a well respected doctor, all dressed in pink tutus at a tea party for a Teletubby."

It hurts so much to laugh, but I can't help it. I _can_ imagine it and I have no doubt Hope will be able to do something similar to Edward. It's a gorgeous thought, a pretty image ingrained into my mind and I can't wait to see it. Spending the next hour together, they leave not long after Edward returns from freshening up and taking a nap at home. It took everyone to convince him to leave for a few hours, but I can tell it helped some as he settles in next to me on the hospital bed, holding Hope and I closely.

"You slept," I say, smiling as I trace my finger under his eye.

"Crashed, actually," he chuckles. "My back really misses our bed, but it's nowhere near as nice as it is with you, love. Took some pictures of the nursery, though. Emmett's . . . taking your ideas literal. He built a tree for the corner with the crib."

My eyes bulge as I take in the gorgeous woodland nursery of my dreams. The tree trunk is in the corner and light drapes rest over the crib as a canopy of leaves. It's stunning and I can't believe my brother-in-law is going to all of this trouble. "Holy shi-oot—Sorry, Hope."

Edward laughs, gently rubbing her back. "Momma's gotta clean up her mouth, huh sweet girl?" he asks before flipping through more pictures. "I knew he was handy, but even I'm shocked. He and Rose took the nursery as theirs to finish and have gone all out, using everything you planned. Rose is painting the walls, so she drew out some stencils of animals. I told her you like foxes best, which she guessed from some of your pictures."

"This is incredible. I want so badly to bring her home to it." Tears form in my eyes, knowing it'll be awhile. They're running more tests on her heart and I'm terrified of what her doctor will tell us. Edward says it's not uncommon for duct and septal defects in preemies. Her heart is so tiny— _she's_ so tiny, and I'm so afraid for her. "Promise me she'll make it through this?" I ask, looking up at him. "We're going to take her home someday and we'll live happily and healthy."

His hand presses my temple to his lips and I feel his head nod against mine. "We're going to bring her home, Isabella Cullen. The two of you are my life, and I wasn't put on this earth, wasn't inspired to be a doctor, and didn't spend over a decade training to be one to lose _my_ girls. I'm meant to be your husband, to be this little one's father, and no matter what we face, we'll face it together. You're the strongest person I know, and it's easy to tell who Hope takes after most."

Lifting my chin, I pull his lips to mine and I know we can do this.

* * *

It's not over yet, but it's getting there. Thanks for hanging around, reading, and reviewing. You guys are the best.


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